The Blue Triquetra
by Kiwi - Sprog
Summary: It has been done many times over but I didn't feel satisfied until I did my own version of Chris' life prior to his jorney to the past. Please enjoy!
1. Preface – Meet the Halliwells

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Obviously.

**Preface – Meet the Halliwells**

Piper, Phoebe and Paige Halliwell were no ordinary witches, but the legendary Charmed Ones. The power of the three sisters was greater than any witch before them and everybody who had experienced magic knew it.

For those who knew them however, their lives seemed fairly ordinary, but more then often strange sounds could be heard coming from inside the red Halliwell manor. Their neighbours grew accustomed to these though and it was accepted as part of their daily San Franciscan life.

The Charmed sisters kept their secret closely guarded away from the mortal world for over five years; with many narrow escapes, for their life was indeed, far from ordinary. After all how could it be, when you're Charmed.

Leo Wyatt was an angel. The Charmed Ones guardian, protector and guide. In the magical world he was known as a Whitelighter. He wasn't the only one. Whitelighters were the spirits of people who had died but had done good in their life and were given the power to heal, orb themselves and others anywhere in the world, morph into another's image and sense people's whereabouts by superior beings called Elders.

Whitelighters were pacifists, they didn't believe in fighting. They were wise, kind and sensitive beings and Leo was no exception. He had been killed in the Second World War whilst risking his life as a medic to save injured solders. His sacrifice was rewarded and he was honoured to help young witches find and control their supernatural powers. It was never an easy job, and when he was chosen to help the Charmed Ones, his ability as a Whitelighter was tested to its limit. Leo was patient and fantastic at his job. So much so that the reluctant sisters recognised their destiny and to trust him.

Although the Elders forbade it, Leo and the eldest sister Piper fell in love with each other and were finally allowed to marry much to the delight of Phoebe and Paige who were desperate to find their own 'Mr Rights' in order to make a feeble attempt at a normal life.

Just over a year after their wedding, Piper and Leo were blessed with a son. They knew he was special before he was even born. Piper insisted that although she was pregnant that she still went about her normal duty with her sisters of fighting demons and saving the world. As the overprotective father-to-be, Leo wasn't happy with this but Piper was as stubborn as ever and they soon realised that the baby was using magic from inside her womb in order to protect her, and demons that attacked discovered to their horror that she was practically invincible.

On the 16th February 2003 Wyatt Matthew Halliwell was born. The prophesised first male child in the Halliwell family for four hundred years. The most powerful being on the planet.

His birth changed the whole family's view on life. Piper hated it even more when demons attacked and just wanted to live a normal life with her new family. Leo began to slowly drift away from the Elder's guidance and started to even disobey them, claiming that his duty as a father came first. But still the demons continued to come, because they always would.

As Wyatt grew, the control and strength of his powers became more and more distinguished by his doting family. Before his second birthday he had healed his parents and aunts on numerous occasions, conjured up a dragon from a TV set and become the proud owner of Excalibur, the legendary sword that once belonged to King Arthur. It was clear that the world of magic could expect great things from him in years to come. But it was at that stage in his life that history became unclear about the Charmed Ones. Only bare facts remained, all details were lost. Many historians and experts on the sisters puzzled over the mystery for years afterwards. What had happened to them and why?

Piper became pregnant again. That was a fact nobody could argue with.

The Titans, who were better known in Ancient Greece were released and slaughtered almost all the Elders in the heavens. The Charmed Ones finally stopped them on their quest to destroy the world, but a year later had to allow Leo to become a new Elder in order to restore balance and stability to the wounded magical society.

It was as if Leo had been the glue that kept the whole Charmed Ones thing together. Once he left the girls became confused, lost and helpless. Piper wanted her husband back; she didn't want her children to grow up without a father. But he went anyway. It was his duty.

Then Wyatt turned evil. How? Nobody knows, but he did. Not at first of course, how could a one and a half year old turn evil? But something gave him the potential to and slowly he turned. Slowly, but surely.

Soon afterwards Piper gave birth to her second child. Another son whom she named Christopher after Leo's father.

There are few records after this but somewhere over the next fourteen years both her sisters were killed in demon attacks and only Piper and her sons remained living in the Halliwell manor. But the demons kept on coming.

This was the Halliwell's destiny, and no one could change it. Leo had to become an Elder, Wyatt had to turn evil, Phoebe and Paige had to die, Piper had to fight demons for the rest of her life, and Chris? Chris had to live with the consequences.


	2. Chapter 1 – The Event

**Chapter 1 – The Event**

The fourteen year old boy shook his mop of dark hair out of his eyes as he iced another brightly coloured flower to the top of the cake he had made. It was his mother's birthday tomorrow and both she and his older brother seemed too preoccupied with other things to care about it this year. To Chris birthdays were an important occasion as his family had little time for celebrations elsewhere in the year, what with work, school and demons attacking every five minutes. Chris had already had his fair share of demon attacks in his life but although it was a nuisance to put his life on hold whilst he and his family fought them, it had given him a great opportunity to help control and use his powers effectively. He had inherited his father's powers of orbing and the ability to sense others whereabouts and from the witch side of his family the power of telekinesis, which was the ability to move matter with his mind, although he used his hand to direct movement.

"Hey Honey," his mother said entering the kitchen and planting a kiss on the top of his head before putting her shopping bags on the side.

"Hi Mum," Chris replied placing the finished cake inside an airtight container.

"Hey, you finished it," she said. "Let's see."

She lifted the lid and cried out in delight at the thick vanilla cake delicately decorated with hundreds of tiny, perfect flowers.

"It's beautiful," she exclaimed dropping another kiss on his head and hugging him tightly.

"Aw, Mum," Chris' indignant muffled voice came from her chest, although he was pleased she liked it. His mother was his whole world and nothing made him happier then to see her pleased with him, or anything for that matter.

She started unpacking the shopping bags and Chris helped her.

"Is Wyatt here?" she asked.

Chris shook his head. "No, he went out."

"Again?" his mother replied.

Chris decided that his mother's question didn't need answering and he hid behind the fridge door as he added various items to it. When he emerged he saw his mother looking at him as if she knew something was bothering him.

"He's changed, hasn't he?" Chris said quietly.

"Well he's getting older," she explained. "He needs to be allowed to become a little more independent. He's almost seventeen."

Chris shook his head. "No, I don't mean him spending less time at home, but everything…" he stopped, "since Auntie Phoebe died."

"Well he was very close to her. To both of them. Death reminds us of our mortality, and it effects us all differently."

"But it was two years ago," Chris said. "I'm scared for him."

"Aw Sweetie," his mother said hugging him again. "Don't be silly. There's nothing wrong with him. It's his hormones, trust me."

Chris flushed as he pulled away from her feeling foolish.

"Have you done your homework?" she asked, swiftly changing the subject. Chris pulled a face pretending to think but his mother saw through his cover instantly.

"Christopher Halliwell!" she cried. "Go upstairs at once and do it. You know perfectly well homework comes first."

"I started it," Chris argued weakly.

His mother returned his comment with an icy glare causing Chris to surrender.

"Ok, sorry Mum," he said and fled the room.

Chris opened his maths book with a sigh, and bent over the page of sums. He was good at the subject but never enjoyed it unless he used it practically which was something his maths lessons never did. He worked swiftly through the page until he was distracted by an almighty crash from downstairs. Sometimes this meant a dish had been dropped or a vase knocked over but more often then not it meant there was a demon in the house. Upon hearing the crash therefore, instantly Chris orbed into the kitchen and was greeted by three demons who were expertly launching golden energy balls at his mother.

Distracted by Chris' arrival, his mother took the split second opportunity to blow up one of her assailants with a flick of her fingers. He disappeared in a column of flame with a roar of pain and two more demons appeared in his place.

One demon hurled an energy ball at Chris, who directed the flaming ball into the back of another demon. As this demon met the fate of its comrade another three materialized in the room.

"Mum we can't beat them," Chris noted with a sinking feeling as she vanquished another one and another two shimmered into view. "More just keep coming."

His mother never liked to leave a job unfinished, but without the power of three anymore they would have to find another way. She held her hand out as she registered what he son was saying.

"Quick, orb us," she said blowing up an energy ball as one sailed her way.

Chris realised that this was easier said then done. They were surrounded by demons and at opposite ends of the room. He could orb to her but the demons were in a too closer proximity for this to be successful without being hit. He lifted his arms slowly into the air as his mind bore the weight of a demon and sent it crashing into a cupboard. Chris sprinted through the gap towards his mother, fending off the balls of energy as best he could. He could feel them falling around him, burning holes into furniture and leaving hideous black marks on the floor. He ducked suddenly as one shot over his head singeing a few of his hairs that stuck up excitedly. His mother's scream made him look up. A mass of burned material and flesh in her side held evidence that an energy ball had met its mark and Chris made an even more desperate attempt to reach her. He never made it. In his frenzy to reach his mother he became less concerned about the demons attacking him and consequently received a sharp burning sensation as a ball of energy burnt painfully into his shoulder. The impact caused him to fly along the floor and crash into the heavy wooden table in front of him. He didn't wait for the demons to finish him off but scrambled as quickly as he could towards his mother on his hands and knees. Chris estimated that there were now around thirteen demons in the room and the number was increasing which indicated the rate his mother was vanquishing them at. He had lost sight of her in the black forest of legs but thankfully the demons seemed less interested in him now and only a few energy balls were thrown his way. The air was thick with the crashes, whizzes and bangs caused by both his mother and the demons and he followed the trail to the centre of the sound where he hoped he would find her.

Then, it was over. One by one the demons suddenly shimmered out in a black wave leaving the wrecked room full of dust and smoke.

His mother was lying in a crumpled heap next to the counter Chris had been working at half and hour ago. The splattered remains of her birthday cake on the worktop were steaming and the melted icing dripped steadily onto the floor next to her turning the blood pink.

"Mum!" Chris cried out in horror and ignoring the throbbing pain in his shoulder ran to her side. She had taken another energy ball to the chest and judging by the blood trickling slowly from her mouth it had been at close range.

"Chris?" she murmured.

"Yes Mum?" he asked anxiously.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course Mum!" Chris replied. "But your not. I'll call Dad."

"No…" she began but Chris had already opened his mouth.

"DAD!" he yelled to the ceiling. "DAD, PLEASE DAD, COME HERE! MUM NEEDS YOU!"

"Chris," his mother whispered.

He looked down, his face streaming. "Why isn't he coming?" he sniffed.

"I don't know Honey," was his mother's reply.

"WYATT! DAD!" Chris screamed. He was beginning to get hysterical. Although he was half Whitelighter he didn't have the power to heal. He knew they needed help now. His mother needed help now. "DAD! WYATT! ANYONE? PLEASE!"

"Chris," his mother whispered again touching his arm softly with her fingertips.

"Mum," Chris said, gently lifting her into his arms. "Don't worry, Dad'll come soon."

"I love you Chris," she murmured.

"No," Chris interrupted.

"Tell Wyatt I love him too."

"No," Chris repeated, "hold on. Dad'll come."

He paused for a second in a futile attempt to stable his sharp, rapid breathing.

"DAD!" he screamed. "PLEASE DAD, FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE LISTEN TO ME! MUM NEEDS YOU NOW!"

"Be brave Honey," his mother whispered even softer than before. She coughed weakly which caused a fit of them to follow. Blood sprayed everywhere, flecking her son's top with the deep red substance.

"Mum, please," Chris wept. "Please stay, don't leave me."

She relaxed in his arms, her eyes flickering closed for a moment. "Be brave," she breathed.

Chris lowered his mother to the floor again and held his hands over the gaping hole in her chest.

"Heal," he urged his hands through gritted teeth. "Come on, heal."

Nothing happened. His vision swam and he wiped away the tears with bloody fingers.

"DAD!" he called again.

It was then when he realised just how much blood there was. His own trickling down his back. As warm and as salty as the tears that stained his face. His mother's, seeping onto the kitchen floor beneath her, drenching the two of them.

"Mum, I'm going to orb for help," Chris decided.

"Sweetie, you can't…orb up there," his mother murmured.

Chris knew he wasn't allowed to seek the Elders, but he also knew his mother was fighting to stay conscious.

"Watch me," he burst out and orbed away in a shimmer of white light. Suddenly he felt himself pushed heavily to the floor which he made contact with, with a thud.

"Chris?" he heard his mothers anxious whisper.

"I'm ok," he replied, although he felt anything but. "I don't understand, there seems to be a shield around the house. I can't break through it."

His mother sighed and her eyes drifted shut. Chris sunk to his bloodstained knees and took her hand in his own.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you Mum," he whispered defeat sounding bitter to his lips.

"You already have," she breathed with a faint smile before the final Charmed One slipped away.

Chris shook his head violently, not wanting to believe she was gone. He felt dizzy from the loss of blood and blackness threatened to engulf him. He fell forward, burying his head into his mother's stomach where he had once been cradled safely and lovingly. His body shook with sobs. He couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. "Dad!" He gave a strangled cry one final time, in the hope, the vain hope that he would come and everything would be alright again. But the only thing that joined him was the faint splat as the icing hit the floor.

Chris woke from the comforting depths of nothingness to see his brothers golden locks and concerned brown eyes gazing down at him. For a moment he returned the gaze before everything came flooding back. He clambered quickly to his feet using his mother's cold body for support. He swayed on the spot; he had never felt so terrible in all his life. Wyatt wrapped his arms around him and held him close as Chris wept.

"Dad!" Wyatt called and instantly there was a swirl of white lights and his father's form appeared. It only took him a second to absorb what had happened and fall to his wife's side his golden Elder robes instantly stained scarlet.

"No," he whispered.

Chris moved slowly behind his brother and pressed closely against him.

"No," he heard his father whisper again.

He looked up at them, his face drained of all colour. He was shaking.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice betraying his emotions.

"Demons," Wyatt replied unnaturally calm. "At least I think it was. I came in a minute ago to find the kitchen wrecked. Chris and Mum were lying on the floor. I managed to heal Chris but Mum was…" his voice cracked but he forced himself to continue. "Mum was dead."

Chris gripped his brother's hand tightly.

"You were here?" his father asked him.

Chris nodded.

"Well?" his father continued. "What happened?"

"Demons," he croaked. "They-they attacked. There were so many."

"Why didn't you orb yourselves out?" his father asked beginning to sound like an interrogator.

"I tried," Chris replied tearfully. "I really did try, but I couldn't get to Mum in time. I tried to save her, I called you but you didn't come. You never come," he added.

"I never come?" his father repeated.

Chris couldn't tell by his father's expression whether he'd hurt him or not but at this moment in time he didn't care. What he had said was true. His father hardly seemed to notice him; he was there when his mother called, when his brother called and even half the world when they wanted him, but not Chris. His mother told him that his father was a busy man and had other responsibilities besides his family, but Chris knew his father didn't seem to love him as much as he loved everyone else. Chris continued.

"There was a shield around the house. It stopped me orbing out. Maybe that's why you didn't hear."

His father glared at him. "If I had heard you I would have come straight away," he snapped. "Why didn't you try the Book of Shadows?"

The Book of Shadows was a powerful book containing hundreds of spells and facts on demons. Demons had tried to steal it many times but anyone evil could not lay a finger or claw on it. The Halliwells had used it on countless occasions to fight and beat demons as well as for other uses.

"There wasn't time," Chris stammered.

"Wasn't time!" his father repeated disbelievingly.

"Oh just stop it!" Wyatt suddenly yelled. "This wasn't Chris' fault, these were demons that attacked! Demons kill Dad. Even us. They killed Auntie Paige, then Auntie Phoebe and now Mum. You Elders won't help. No. so if it's anyone's fault it's yours."

Chris saw his father open and close his moth like a fish.

"Living all high and mighty in your perfect world watching the rest of us struggling to keep out families safe. You don't care about us or protect us!"

Their father stood gob-smacked for a second before quickly regaining his composure.

"It's ok to be angry," he said.

"ANGRY!" Wyatt screamed and waved his hand viciously through the air sending his father crashing into the wall behind him. He held him a couple of feet in the air his legs dangling.

"I'll show you angry!" Wyatt continued.

"Wyatt stop it!" Chris yelled, he had never seen his brother this furious before.

Suddenly his father orbed out. Wyatt could have stopped him but he didn't.

"That's it!" he cried after his father's fading figure. "Run off and leave us again."

Wyatt turned to face his brother, Chris stepped hurriedly backwards. Wyatt's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I'm going out," he mumbled and with a swirl of bright light he disappeared.

He was alone again. Chris forced the tears back, wondering if there was anything to do other than fall apart.

With one last look at his mother he orbed out too. This time he was successful in leaving the house and reappeared behind the garden shed in his grandfather's back garden. Grandpa was a mortal. He wasn't entirely keen on magic but he accepted it as part of his family's life. Chris knew that orbing into his house wasn't allowed as he was rather skittish and hated it when family members suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Chris ran up to the back door and knocked sharply on the glass. He loved his grandfather. He always knew the right thing to say and Chris needed that now. Someone to hold him in his arms and tell him it would all be alright and support him. His grandfather smiled when he saw who was at the door, but Chris couldn't return the gesture and as the gleaming barrier between them parted, Chris took refuge in his warm embrace, burying his face into his chest as the tears fell once more.


	3. Chapter 2 – Twice Blessed

**Authors Note: **Thank you for all the fantastic reviews, I was really pleased that everyone seems to like it.

This is just a note to say that this story was mainly written for my family who have never seen 'Charmed' before and so the story is written with people who are unfamiliar with the show in mind. Hope you enjoy reading.

Also I'm sorry it took so long to post this as I had a few problems with the document manager.

**Chapter 2 – Twice Blessed**

His mother's funeral was a blur. It wasn't something he wanted to remember anyway so he was thankful for this. But he could still picture the great stone church lavishly laden with flowers of every shape, size and colour that he could ever imagine. His mother had loved flowers; almost every room in the house had a vase full of the bright frilly things in it.

Then there was the coffin. A hard, shiny box entombing his mother, radiating the cold message that never would he see her smiling face again, never inhale the scent of her cooking on her clothes again, never hear her moan at him again, never hold her again. Never.

To the priest it was just another funeral that he often performed. Same words, same atmosphere, just a different body. Chris wondered if he thought them all pathetic, moping over a person that he hadn't even known.

After the service Chris stood with his grandfather, Wyatt and his father by the door, thanking people for coming. Chris stood silently by his grandfather's side, his smaller hand grasped securely in the older man's. The people exiting the church became a metronome.

"I am very sorry for your loss."

"Piper was a good person."

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Piper made us smile."

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

Chris soon became immune to it and blocked the world out, the demon attack playing over and over in his head. His mother's scream, the blood, her pain.

"Chris?" his grandfather pulled him out of his thoughts with a gentle tug on his arm. "Let's go."

Chris and Wyatt walked solemnly on either side of their grandfather. Their father hadn't spoken a word to them the entire day. Apart from squeezing Wyatt's arm supportively, he hadn't had any contact with them at all. He had orbed back up to the heavens soon after the service, not even waiting to see his wife be buried.

Chris and Wyatt were now to live with their grandfather. He was the only family they had left now, except each other and their busy father.

"What do you two want for dinner?" he said in an attempt to make light conversation.

"Could I cook Grandpa?" Chris asked quietly.

"Don't worry son," his grandfather replied. "You can both have a shower when we get in. It'll make you feel better."

"Please Grandpa," Chris pleaded. "I'd like to. It relaxes me."

His Grandfather smiled and pulled him into a one armed hug.

"Just like your mother," he said as they walked along.

He reached out his other arm to pull his eldest grandson close to him too, but Wyatt shrugged it away.

"I'm ok," he replied stiffly and increased his pace, striding slightly in front of them.

Chris looked up at his grandfather and the man's mouth twitched reassuringly.

"People deal with grief in different ways Chris," he said. "This is just Wyatt's way. He'll be ok in a few days."

A few weeks past and Chris saw no improvement in his brother's mood. He stayed away from the house for lengthy periods of time, often only appearing for meals, sometimes skipping them altogether. When Chris did briefly see him, he looked worn out, as if he hadn't slept for days. He probably hadn't. His eyes had lost their twinkle and were dull and lost. Chris didn't like seeing Wyatt like this. Every time he of his grandfather offered any kind of support towards him, he had turned it away. His grandfather tried not to show it but Chris knew he was concerned for Wyatt's health. Sooner of later he would make himself seriously ill. And where did he go when he went out? Wyatt never told them where he was going every day. Chris tried many times to sense for him, but he couldn't detect him anywhere. Obviously his brother knew he would try and find him and had cloaked himself from Chris' powers. Unless he was in the underworld. Nobody could detect anybody in the underworld. This probably was a good thing too; demons wouldn't stand a chance if their home was available for all witch eyes to pry on.

Chris decided to follow him one day and see where he went. He waited until he was out before he opened the Book of Shadows that Wyatt kept safely tucked away in the bedroom they shared. He ran his fingers over the dark green cover and traced them over the coppery Triquetra etched in the middle. He needed to find the ingredients for an invisibility spell. He slowly flicked through the yellow aged pages searching for the one he needed.

At last he found it and wrote the ingredients out on a piece of paper, before carefully sliding it back onto the shelf where he had found it.

He and Wyatt also had a small store of potion ingredients that Wyatt had placed in a large suitcase underneath his bed. Chris opened this now and rummaged through the strange bottles for the ones he needed. It was a simple potion to make but only lasted an hour. Chris would have to be quick once he had taken it.

Half an hour later Chris had successfully filled a small bottle of the purple concoction he had made. He washed up the cauldron and put everything back as he had found it, pausing only to open a window as he left the room.

"Grandpa," Chris said walking into the living room where his grandfather sat puzzling over the crossword in the newspaper puffing on a cigar. "I'm going out for a while; I'll be back in about an hour."

"Ok," his grandfather replied removing the cigar from his mouth. "Where are you going?"

Chris shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, you know, just for a walk," he replied.

"Ok, bye," his grandfather smiled.

Chris turned to leave before looking back.

"Grandpa, you said you were going to cut down on those," he said indicating to the glowing stick his grandfather had replaced in his mouth.

"I know," he replied. "I am. It just helps me think, and I'm really stuck on this crossword."

Chris rolled his eyes and his grandfather smiled apologetically.

"Sorry," he said. "Just stay safe ok?"

Chris nodded. "See you."

He pulled out the potion from his pocket and walked into the bathroom his heart thumping wildly. He unscrewed the lid and downed the entire bottle. Instantly he felt it bubble inside him as it worked. The sensation wasn't painful but rather uncomfortable. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and it slowly disappeared. Everything that had contact with his body disappeared from sight too including his clothes and the empty bottle in his hand. He replaced it into his pocket with some difficulty considering he couldn't see what he was doing. It was very weird to look down at himself yet see nothing at all. There wasn't time to admire his work though. He only had a short time in this state and he needed to make the most of it. He chanted a spell that he had memorised.

"However far he may be, to my brother now take me!"

With a faint glow around his transparent form his grandfather's bathroom faded away as Chris left it and reappeared somewhere else.

Chris knew where he was the moment it took shape around him. The underworld. It was very dark and the flaming torches on the walls cast shadows eerily against the stone. The underworld was a big place but most demons liked the same kind of habitat.

Suddenly Chris realised that he wasn't alone in the cave. He shrunk instinctively back behind a column of rock before remembering that no one could see him. He peered cautiously out from behind it and could dimly make out two human like forms in front of him.

"I tell you I don't know," one snorted, clearly afraid of the other.

"That's not good enough," the other snarled in a voice undoubtedly Wyatt's.

A blue energy ball appeared in his upturned palm.

"Need I ask you again," he continued, lazily sending the energy ball the demon's way and disintegrating its arm. The creature roared in agony. Chris snapped his eyes shut and turned head in disgust.

"Where are they?" Wyatt asked, this obviously not being the first time he'd questioned the demon in this way.

"I know nothing!" the demon replied between clenched teeth.

"Oh I think you do," Wyatt said slickly as the demon's other arm disappeared in a ball of flame. "Last chance."

"Even if I did know, you'd probably kill me anyway," the demon grimmest.

"Then why don't you fight back?" Wyatt asked.

"You have killed all my other friends in front of me. All of them fought you at once but you slaughtered them."

"Were they your friends?" Wyatt jeered. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise demons had friends. I thought you had no feelings."

"What you say is true," the demon replied trying to earn Wyatt's favour. "But we are more successful as a team."

"You were," Wyatt replied shortly.

Although Chris couldn't see much, he could hear that his brother sounded as if he were enjoying himself.

The demon gave another yell of pain although Chris couldn't see any more energy balls.

"What are you doing to me?" the demon said panicking.

"Playing with your heart," Wyatt replied casually. "You see, when I do this," he clutched his fingers slowly together and the demon cried out again. "I'm putting more pressure on it. But when I do this," he allowed his fingers to part. "I am releasing the pressure."

"Is this some kind of game?" the demon asked wearily.

Chris knew his brother was smiling.

"You could call it that," he replied. "I could end it quite easily you know. All you have to do is tell me who the demons are."

"But how would I know?" the demon objected and Wyatt closed his fingers again.

"They killed a Charmed One," he growled. "I'm sure it spread round the underworld like wild fire."

"Well in that case," the demon considered. "Vorax would know."

"Where can I find him?" Wyatt enquired.

"In the eighth cavern," the demon replied in a strangled voice. "Can we stop your game now?"

"Gladly," Wyatt replied and pulled his fingers tightly into a fist and the demon disappeared in a column of fire, leaving a smoking pile of ash on the floor in front of Wyatt.

Now alone Wyatt looked warily around the cave. Chris drew his head back from around the column and struggled to steady his racing breathing, sure that Wyatt could hear it in the silence.

Suddenly he was thrown forward as an energy ball struck the rock behind him, and shattered rocks fell about him. Chris groaned before he could stop himself and flung his hand to his invisible mouth. He heard Wyatt approach him and he lay still hoping his brother wouldn't realise he was there. The hope was in vain, he knew. Wyatt had already sensed his presence in the cave and the dust and stones that had settled on his body were not invisible.

"Ah ha!" Wyatt said in a tone so unlike his brother's. "So you think being invisible will hide you from me?"

Chris didn't move.

"This creature which the eye can't see, its true form now reveal to me," Wyatt chanted.

Chris felt himself become visible again.

"Chris!" Wyatt exclaimed.

Chris raised his head and clambered to his feet.

"You fool, I could have killed you! What on earth are you doing down here?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," Chris replied shortly, brushing himself down.

"I'm avenging Mum," Wyatt said raising his chin slightly.

"You're torturing demons," Chris corrected.

"What, so you think the demons will just tell me who killed her?" Wyatt asked.

Chris raised his eyebrows.

"They're demons Chris, they have no morals, they don't feel emotions like we do and they kill for the fun of it."

"Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time didn't you?" Chris said.

"I needed information," Wyatt replied. "If I had looked as if I hated killing it, I would have never got anything out of him. But you, you were following me."

Chris nodded.

"You didn't tell me what you were doing, where you were going. You looked terrible, so I wanted to find out was wrong, to help you."

Wyatt looked more kindly at his brother.

"Nothing's wrong. You should have believed me when I told you. I'm just busy. I don't want anymore demons coming after us. I want to protect you, and coming down here is a pretty bad way to repay me, it's much to dangerous."

"And it's not for you?" Chris retorted.

"I'm twice blessed," Wyatt said. "A great deal older and more powerful then you. I can handle this."

Chris' mouth fell open in disbelievement.

"I'm not helpless you know!" he said angrily.

Wyatt smiled. "No," he said. "But I promise you that I love you and I will always protect you not just because you're my brother but also my best friend." He paused. "Promise me you'll not tell Grandpa what you saw. It will just worry him, and we don't want him to tell Dad."

Chris studied his brother for a moment. There was only two years between them but Wyatt was well over six foot tall and had lost all signs of childhood.

Chris on the other hand looked as childlike as a person could get. Innocent green eyes that he often used to get his own way and dark hair just like his mother's, although it never behaved itself. In comparison to Wyatt he was tiny, barely five foot tall, but he was stubborn and never let these differences bother him.

"Ok," he answered at length. After all, his brother was older, he knew best.

Wyatt patted him on the back causing a cloud of dust to appear from his T-shirt.

"Thanks," he said. "And…er…sorry about throwing that energy ball at you. Can't be too careful you know."

"No worries," Chris replied.

Wyatt smiled and took his hand.

"Let's go home," he said.

Chris nodded and Wyatt orbed them in a spiral of bright light back to their grandfathers.


	4. Chapter 3 – A Haunting Image

**Authors Note: **Please keep reviewing, I love feed back as well as points on how I could improve the story. Updating will be quite slow as I have a lot of work to do as well as I am still writing the story, first by hand and then typing it up on the computer. Long slow job, please be patient.

The story will be 32 chapters in total if I include the preface and epilogue and I am slightly under half way through. Loooong way to go yet.

I hope you like this chapter though!

**Chapter 3 – A Haunting Image**

Chris only saw his father a couple of times over the few weeks after his mother's funeral. Much to his grandfather's displeasure he would orb into the living room to check on the three of them and that no demons had attacked. Chris didn't think a demon would attack anytime soon, Wyatt had scared them off after his daily visits to the underworld. Chris had kept his promise to his brother, he hadn't told anyone where he went everyday. Even though he hated what his brother was doing, deep down he wanted the demons who had killed his mother vanquished and kept his mouth shut.

During their father's brief visits, their grandfather made sure both of them were present to talk to him. He was pretty quiet most of the time and sat on the sofa asking Wyatt about school and his part time job. Chris would sit silently through these conversations, watching his father closely as he listened to Wyatt. His father barely even glanced at him, directing most questions to his older brother so he wouldn't have to look Chris' way. Chris knew he was avoiding him. Even more than usual. Before, his father used to speak to him. Now he didn't even want to do that.

Chris tried to kid himself that he didn't care how his father treated him, but it didn't work. For some reason he still wanted his father to think highly of him and appreciate him, but he never received anything.

It wasn't until late one evening that Chris found out why his father's relationship with him had worsened.

Wyatt was out again and Chris was lying on his bed, sensing for him to orb back in, but instead he located his father appearing in the living room. He got off his bed and dropped to his knees, pressing his ear to a floorboard by the radiator in his room where he could perfectly hear everything that was going on in the room below.

His grandfather was there, which he discovered after his father asked "what's the matter?"

"It's Chris," his grandfather replied stiffly.

"What's wrong with him?" said his father, Chris sensing some concern in his voice.

"I don't think anything's wrong with him," answered his grandfather. "I want to know what you think is wrong with him."

"Nothing that I know about," his father said, confused.

"Then why are you casting him aside?" his grandfather questioned.

"I'm not," his father automatically replied.

"Don't take me for a fool Leo," said his grandfather. "Chris knows you're avoiding him, even I can see it. What did he ever do to deserve that?"

His father didn't reply.

"I know you've never loved him like you love Wyatt but suddenly you're treating him even worse."

"That's a lie!" his father exclaimed angrily. "Of course I love him. He's my son!"

His grandfather raised his voice too. "Then why don't you show it?"

Chris could barely hear what his father said next.

"He reminds me too much of Piper," he admitted quietly.

A long silence followed, and Chris tried to digest what his father had just said. He had never compared himself to his mother before. Sure his hair colour was the same but certainty not his eyes, nor anything else for that matter. He resisted the temptation to get up and look in the mirror, and kept his ear firmly planted to the floor.

"That's it?" he heard his grandfather say. "You can't look at your son because he looks like your wife? Piper was my daughter; do you think I push Chris away because he reminds me of her? I think it's great to know that I have two people so close to my daughter left. With Phoebe and even Paige, who wasn't directly my daughter, I had photos, and gift's they had given me, but nothing as precious as your sons. Are you that ungrateful?"

"I think I better be off," his father said, and before his grandfather could object, Chris heard the tinkling chime that indicated that his father orbed out.

Chris slowly got to his feet. A part of him wished he hadn't listened into the conversation, but a part of him did. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers over his head, his mind spinning. He heard his grandfather come in.

"Chris, are you awake?" he whispered.

Chris decided not to reply, but his grandfather seemed to know he wasn't sleeping. He sat down on the bed and touched Chris' covered shoulder gently.

"You heard didn't you?" he said softly.

Chris opened his eyes and pulled the covers back.

"Hear what?" he asked.

"Your eyes betray you," his grandfather replied. "Don't pretend you didn't hear."

Chris sat up quickly.

"He doesn't love me because I look like Mum?" he asked angrily.

His grandfather shook his head. "No," he said. "It's just painful for him to be reminded of the thing he wants most in the world, but can't have."

"But it's not fair!" Chris exclaimed tears pricking the back of his eyes, but he stubbornly held them back. "He's only thinking of himself."

"Chris," his grandfather soothed. "If there's one thing you ought to know about your fathers life, it's how many sacrifices he has made in order to protect the ones he loved and to do the right thing, for the greater good. I know from personal experience that the only thing he has ever wanted in return was your mother's happiness. In order to achieve this, he has had to sacrifice his own happiness time and time again.

When she became pregnant with your brother, he was the happiest I'd ever seen him. They had been through so much to have this baby and it paid off in the end.

When she bore you however, she became more vulnerable to demon attacks. Now I don't know why this happened with you and not with Wyatt as well, but she was almost killed on quite a few occasions."

"Do you think Dad blames me for that?" Chris asked.

"I'm not sure," was his grandfather's reply. "You were born under very different conditions to your brother. Wyatt was in serious danger at the time and you were slightly early."

"What was wrong with Wyatt?"

Again his grandfather shook his head. "I really don't know, but they sorted it out in the end. Of course they did, otherwise Wyatt wouldn't be here today.

But your mother started to haemorrhage with you. Your father was caught between saving your brother or your mother. He chose her and was able to heal her, but at the expense of leaving Wyatt in danger."

Suddenly something clicked in Chris' head.

"That's why," he whispered, lowering his eyes to the dark shadow of his duvet. "Because of me, Mum almost dies loads of times and he had to give up Wyatt in order to save her."

"Yes, but Wyatt was ok in the end," his grandfather argued. "He was able to protect himself."

Chris didn't reply, but inspected his fingers in the dull light. He still thought it was a pretty lame excuse for his father to never show him love, after all he didn't ask for demons to attack his mother, to be born at the wrong time, or hurt his mother. It just happened and his father should have understood that.

"But he has to blame it on somebody," he said at last.

"No he didn't," his grandfather answered. "He had no right to blame anything on you."

"But I was there when Mum died. I could have saved her!" Chris cried, before adding in a quieter voice, "I let him down again."

His grandfather pulled him against his warm torso and Chris allowed his tears to fall. His grandfather rubbed his hand rhythmically up and down his back, rocking backwards and forwards just like his mother used to do.

"I miss her so much," he sniffed.

"I know," his grandfather replied. "I know."

As the weeks turned to months, Chris managed to slowly escape the haunting replay of the demon attack. He began to enjoy school again and life became normal once more.

Chris hadn't seen another demon since the day he had followed his brother to the underworld, and this worried him. They were either planning a massive attack or they were keeping away for whatever reason. Wyatt was probably the reason. He was much more powerful then Chris first thought and wisely the demons were staying out if his line of fire.

During this time, their father visited again. Chris and his grandfather were in the living room playing an interesting game of Ludo. Chris was playing as yellow and blue, whilst his grandfather was storming the board with his army of red and green. Chris usually refrained from using magic in front of him, but considering he was being completely thrashed at the moment he couldn't resist making his counters do a victory dance every time he successfully sent one of his grandfather's counters back home.

It was after one of these rare occasions that his father orbed in. At first he thought it was his brother and threw a counter at the silvery forming figure.

"Hey Wy, come and join…" Chris trailed off as soon as he realised his mistake. "Dad," he corrected himself simply.

His father bent down and picked up the shiny, blue, plastic counter.

"Hello," he said.

"What are you doing here?" Chris' grandfather demanded.

"I've come to speak to my sons actually," his father sourly replied.

His grandfather grunted and stood up.

"Wyatt!" he shouted to the upstairs room where Wyatt was busy doing his homework.

After a couple of seconds delay, Wyatt appeared in the room.

Chris' father sighed. "The Elders have told me to stay in the heavens permanently," he said, cutting straight to the point.

"What?" came the disbelieving reply.

"I have to cut all my ties with Earth," his father said.

"What the heck do you want to do that for?" his grandfather inquired indignantly.

His father sighed again. "When I was first made an Elder I was told exactly the same thing," he explained. "But I couldn't. I had a life down there, a responsibility towards the Charmed Ones. Now they're all dead. I have no reason to come here any longer."

Chris' grandfather scoffed. "And your sons aren't a good enough reason?" he retorted.

"It's because I love them that I am doing this. I want to give them a chance at a normal life."

"Well if you wanted that, why didn't you bind our powers?" Wyatt remarked sharply, speaking for the first time.

Chris looked at him. His eyes were wide with anger, but confusion lurked in their depths and he was clearly hurt.

"One day you'll understand," their father replied softly.

"One day!" Wyatt exclaimed, his voice rising. "I don't want to understand one day, I want to understand now!"

"Have you noticed how demons have stopped attacking?" he hinted.

"Yes I have," Wyatt replied, his eyes flashing. "And I also know that, that has nothing to do with it. You're leaving us. Just like, like Auntie Paige did, then Auntie Phoebe did, and then Mum."

He turned his head sharply to face Chris.

"You mark my words Chris," he seethed. "Grandpa will be next. Then they'll all be gone. And will they care what becomes of us? No, of course they won't."

"Wyatt," both their father and grandfather said simultaneously.

"Don't Wyatt me," he replied. "It's all true. Can't you see Dad. We need you. The Elders have manipulated you. Made you believe things for all the wrong reasons and you fell for it. Just like all the other Whitelighters before you. How is it right to abandon your family?"

Whether his father had been affected by these words, Chris couldn't tell, his face was clear of all emotion. Maybe Wyatt was right. Maybe the Elders weren't the all good beings that everyone had made them out to be.

"You two are not the only people who need me. I serve the whole world and I have to be there for them."

"And not us?" Wyatt said.

"Don't make this any harder then it already is," his father pleaded.

Wyatt snorted. "Don't patronise me," he said.

Their father sighed, defeated. "I'm sorry," he told them. "Victor look after them please."

He reached out a hand to their grandfather who reluctantly shook it before feeling brave enough to nod.

"Thank you," their father continued. "I'm really sorry."

Neither Wyatt nor Chris moved and their father turned away sadly.

"So am I," Chris suddenly whispered barely audible.

His father locked eyes with him for the eternity of five seconds before there was the tinkling of bells and he disappeared into the swirl of bright orbs. Forever.


	5. Chapter 4 – Drifting Away

**Authors Note: **Fantastic reviews still, thank you very much. Sorry I was late updating but I have been very busy this week. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter 4 – Drifting Away**

Chris sat cross legged on his bed bent over a book. His mind wasn't on what he was reading and upon finishing the page he promptly had to start again.

Suddenly Wyatt orbed in with an excited cry and Chris jumped at the unexpected sound.

"I've found them," Wyatt panted with his first smile in days and snatched the Book of Shadows off the shelf and flipped quickly through the pages to find the one he was looking for.

"I've found the demons that killed Mum,"

He dumped the heavy leather book into Chris' lap, instantly squashing the one preceding it as it fell.

Chris looked at the open page and was instantly greeted by the drawing of one of the demons he had seen on that fateful day. His stomach knotted and he glanced up at his brother.

"Am I right?" Wyatt asked.

Chris nodded dumbly and read the passage that went with the picture.

"'Sarak is the only known demon to use the aid of a machine to kill his victims. The machine creates temporary demons which only last an hour but are fully functional in their creators own powers. Sarak can summon these creatures at any moment in time and often calls two more for every one that is vanquished in the same manner as the warm demons, in order to out number his opponents. The whereabouts of this machine is unknown although many demons and witches have searched for it in the hope of using it for themselves. A vanquishing potion for Sarak is known although it is virtually impossible to reach him because of his protection.' Wyatt you're not actually going to try this?"

Wyatt nodded and took the book off of Chris.

"Let's see what the ingredients are."

"Wyatt?" Chris questioned irritably. "Are you nuts? You'll be killed!"

"Want a bet?" Wyatt smugly replied. "I've got all the information I need in order to kick his wimpy demon butt."

"You know where the machine thing is?" Chris asked.

Wyatt raised his eyebrows cockily.

"But…how?" Chris stuttered.

"I have my ways," Wyatt said mysteriously.

Chris glared at him, expecting a more detailed answer.

"All right," Wyatt sighed. "I made a deal with a demon."

"A deal with a demon!" Chris exclaimed in horror. "Are you that desperate? You can't trust a demon at all!"

Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Gee Chris you're as bad as Mum. No, worse than Mum; she made a deal with a demon before. Don't worry; I know what I'm doing."

"You do, do you?" Chris said disbelievingly. "What was your side of the deal? Give the machine to the demon who helped you?"

"Of course not," Wyatt replied. "It doesn't matter, and really it doesn't concern you. Now I didn't tell you in order to get a lecture, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me. Get our revenge?"

Chris lowered his eyes in thought.

"No," he stated firmly after a brief second.

"What?" Wyatt asked.

"I said no," Chris repeated.

"Why ever not?" Wyatt asked shocked.

"Well to start with, I don't know what I'm getting myself into with this deal thing," Chris said.

"Chris," Wyatt groaned. "I can't tell you. It doesn't involve you at all. And you don't have to worry about the machine either; I'm going to destroy it."

Chris picked up his crumpled book and began the page again.

"I don't like it," he said. "And I don't want to get involved and I don't think you should either."

Wyatt's mouth dropped open.

"Chris," he stuttered. "These are the demons, or demon, who brutally killed Mum. And I have spent ages trying to track him down. I am not giving up now! What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," Chris stated. "Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to read."

"I'll make him pay," Wyatt snarled, causing his brother to look up. "I'll make him so sorry that he would be willing to become an Elder in order to make it up to me. And then I'll kill him. Send him to the fiery depths of hell where he can burn for all eternity."

Chris inwardly shuddered. He did want Sarak vanquished. In fact he wanted nothing more then to avenge his mother and protect other witches from meeting the same fate. But something was wrong. Seriously wrong, and he didn't like what Wyatt was planning one bit.

His brother shoved the Book of Shadows roughly back onto the shelf and gave Chris a wry smile.

"I don't need a vanquishing potion," he said as Chris' eyes grew wide. "Not if I'm going to enjoy this." And he orbed out.

Chris waited for the last sparkling orb to disappear before throwing his book to one side and running downstairs to find his Grandfather. He had to tell him what Wyatt was doing. What he had being doing in the past few months. He didn't know how his Grandfather could help him, he just knew that he had to tell him.

"Grandpa?" he called.

"In here," came a voice from the kitchen and Chris rushed through the door.

"Hey, slow down buddy," his grandfather said lighting the hob. "Is something wrong?"

"I have something to tell you," Chris panted. "Something I should have told you a long time ago."

His grandfather raised his greying eyebrows.

"I'm listening," he said.

Chris walked over to the counter and leant on it heavily.

"I know where Wyatt has been going," he admitted.

His grandfather smiled. "Girlfriend?" he asked inquisitively.

Chris shook his head violently.

"No," he said. "It's bad."

"Strip club?" his grandfather guessed.

"The underworld," Chris said.

"What?"

"He's been visiting the underworld," Chris repeated.

His grandfather's eyes were wide.

"But that's where all the… you know… demons are. Isn't it?" He stuttered.

"He's been looking for the demon that killed Mum," Chris explained. "And he's found him, and now he's gone to vanquish him."

"Alone?"

Chris nodded. "I've seen him kill another demon a few weeks ago. He was torturing it. I promised him I wouldn't tell you but I'm scared."

His Grandfather didn't know what to say but Chris continued.

"He's changed. I know he has. There's something wrong with him and it's scaring me. It's scaring me a lot and I don't know what to do Grandpa. I don't know him anymore."

He inhaled a shuddering breath as tears pricked his eyes. He resisted the urge to run from the room and looked into his grandfather's understanding brown eyes.

"Maybe he's just angry," he said. "Once it's out of his system he'll be ok again."

"Then why aren't I down there helping him?" Chris asked. "Because I'm angry. I'm very angry. But I don't want to rip off a demon's head and hang it on my bedroom wall."

"He's not doing that is he?" his grandfather pleaded.

"No," Chris answered and his grandfather breathed a sigh of relief.

"Listen Chris, I'll deal with Wyatt later but for now you need to calm down. Come and chop these vegetables up for me."

He patted him reassuringly on the back.

"I'll be ok son, I promise you."

An hour passed slowly by with Chris jumping at any noise that could signify his brother's return. He was beginning to worry and considered if he should go down to the underworld and help. His grandfather abruptly refused and Chris forced his concerns for his brother to the back of his mind.

At last Wyatt orbed back into the kitchen and Chris promptly spun anxiously towards him.

"Just where do you think you've been?" their grandfather asked him sharply.

Wyatt glared at Chris, instantly realising what he had done.

"I think you already know," he replied stiffly.

"You could have been killed," his grandfather continued.

Wyatt rolled his eyes.

"I'm not stupid enough to let that happen," he said. "And besides, I avenged Mum."

"I hope that means you're not going to pull any stupid stunts for a while," his grandfather retorted.

"Not quite," Wyatt replied. "But boy was revenge sweet."

He walked over to the kitchen table and sat on a chair, leaning comfortably into its back.

Chris knew he had put the demon through a lot of pain before he killed him, and didn't want to press the subject, in fear of going into too much detail. Unfortunately Wyatt had other ideas and began to retell this so called heroic tale.

Chris turned back to the sauce he was stirring and tried to block out his brother's victorious voice whilst his grandfather continued to stare at Wyatt angrily.

"…and of course there were hundreds of his fake demons guarding it, but they hadn't got any real power in those energy balls, so nothing got through my shield. So I was able to blow up the generator and BOOM!"

Wyatt slammed his hand down on the table hard.

"Goodbye decoys," he laughed. "Sarak tried to shimmer out, but you see, nobody escapes from Wyatt Halliwell. I held him back by his throat and threw him into the corner of his cave. Unfortunately for him the rock face wasn't entirely smooth, and he left some flesh behind, which he didn't seem to happy about."

"Wyatt that's enough." His grandfather said.

"Oh come on Grandpa," Wyatt groaned. "This creature killed your daughter. It has to suffer a little. Anyway, I made sure his head cracked the roof a couple of times. Then the bugger passed out. Humph, not going to get out of it that easily, so guess who had to heal him?" Wyatt pointed to himself exasperatedly.

Chris stirred harder, the white liquid splashing dangerously against the sides of the saucepan.

"Then I used the agorisus spell on him."

Chris dropped the spoon in horror and spun round to face his brother.

"Mum told us never to use that spell," he gasped.

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders lightly.

"Well," he said. "It was invented for a reason and I guess I found that reason."

"What is the agorisisus spell, or whatever it's called?" their grandfather asked nervously.

Chris saw his grandfather looking at him and knew he'd have to be the one to explain.

"It's a spell that Mum, Auntie Phoebe and Auntie Paige made up when they needed to vanquish the demon of pain," he said. "The only thing that could destroy him was a dose of his own pain. It was also the first time they were seriously effected by vanquishing a demon. Mum put the spell in the Book of Shadows to remind herself never to use the spell again. Wyatt and I came across it one day and asked her about it. She told us how it caused excruciating pain to the person or thing it is cast on and that never under any circumstances should we use it on anything. It was only designed to kill the demon of pain but the pain it could cause other beings is beyond anything ever possible."

His grandfather looked at Wyatt, his face ashen.

Wyatt shrugged his shoulders again.

"I didn't use it that often. Just to show him I meant business," he said innocently.

"Wyatt…that's…" their grandfather struggled to find words. "Why?"

"He killed Mum and hurt Chris,"

"And that gives you the right to use a spell that has both been forbidden and has horrific consequences?"

"Consequences?" scoffed Wyatt. "The only consequence is that one demon is very sorry for messing with the Halliwells and is probably wishing it had never been born."

His grandfather shook his head.

"No," he said, his words barely above a whisper. "Where are your morals?"

Wyatt rolled his eyes.

"Chris," he said. "We don't belong here. No offence Grandpa, but you have no idea about magic and Chris and I need to grow. We were given this gift for a reason and a lot of mortal tosh isn't going to help us."

"Chris is only fourteen," their grandfather said. "He's not going anywhere with you."

"What, you think I can't look after him?" Wyatt asked testily. "He's my brother damn it, of course I'm going to take care of him."

"It's illegal," their grandfather stated.

"Mortal rubbish!" Wyatt jeered.

"STOP IT!" Chris yelled, silencing Wyatt in mid-sentence. "Wyatt, I'm not leaving Grandpa. You're nuts. You've flipped. Is this what Mum would have wanted? Really?" He paused for breath. "I don't know you anymore Wy. You're drifting away from me."

"Protecting you," Wyatt corrected.

"No," Chris said. "You've got too much power for your own good. You think you're almighty…"

"As good as."

"Don't you see Wy," Chris continued, ignoring him. "What you're doing is wrong."

"I don't believe I'm taking this kind of nonsense from my baby bro," Wyatt said to himself, intending Chris to hear.

"Well don't then!" Chris shouted. "I don't care. Just because you're older, taller, more powerful, twice blessed and loved by Dad doesn't make you right!"

Chris could feel the tears threatening to come again, but he had had enough and he orbed up to his bedroom and threw himself onto his bed tears pouring down his cheeks.

He punched the pillow, squashing it repeatedly before collapsing into it sobs racking his body.


	6. Chapter 5 – The Deal

**Authors note: **Hey! Sorry it took so long to upload. I love the reviews, even constructive criticism is welcome. As you know I haven't finished writing the story yet so it's not too late to add some ideas.

I remembered the other day that I haven't given you the full blurb for my story, so I guess that now is a good a time as any.

_Imagine a world of terror and desperation; a world where every day is a struggle to get through; a world full of destruction and darkness; a world run by evil._

_If you had a chance to change it, would you take it?_

_Become a stranger amongst your own family?_

_Hated by those who loved you?_

_Risk your life for a cause known only to you?_

_Neither understood nor trusted by anybody?_

_Would you do it?_

_Could you save the world, from your brother?_

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next chapter. Keep the reviews coming!

**Chapter 5 – The Deal**

Chris greeted the shrill ringing of the school bell, signifying the end of another long day at school, with a sigh of relief. The entire chemistry lesson had gone straight over his head and the notes in his book made no sense to him whatsoever.

Instantly the entire room sprung to life and the teacher's drone drowned out.

"EXCUSE ME!" she screamed over the noise. "THIS LESSON ISN'T FINISHED UNTIL I SAY IT IS. SIT DOWN JAMIE!"

The room fell dolefully quiet again and the teacher smiled.

"That's better," she said. "Now before you go I would like Alex to tell me a use for Neon."

Chris groaned. It was obvious that she would pick on Alex. He would spend a minute trying to think of the answer before leaning over to see what Charlotte had written in her book next to him.

"Neon lights," he grinned after doing exactly that.

"Thank you Charlotte," the teacher sighed exasperatedly. "Ok, class dismissed."

The class continued where it had left off and the mass of children bundled as fast as they could through the door and surged into the corridor.

"Hey Chris!" Chris heard his friend Anthony call as he battled towards him.

"Hello," Chris replied.

"Are you coming bowling tonight with Ollie and I?"

"Oh," Chris said remembering the suggestion a few days ago. "Well I'm not sure…"

"Come on Chris," Anthony argued. "You haven't been out with us in ages. Are you scared I'm going to thrash you again?"

Chris punched his friend playfully.

"Never," he said. "Ok I'll come."

"Cool," replied Anthony. "Do you want my dad to pick you up?"

"No, I'll meet you there," Chris said.

"Right, I've booked the lane for half past six," said Anthony running off. "See you there."

It only took twenty minutes to walk to school from his grandfather's house. Unfortunately it took an extra ten on the way back because the majority of the walk was uphill.

He was halfway home when he saw his brother marching quickly into a side street with a girl about the same age as him. Wyatt hadn't seemed to have noticed Chris as he was too preoccupied in engaging the girl in a conversation.

Chris smiled. So Wyatt had a girlfriend did he?

He swiftly followed them, hoping that maybe he would be lucky enough to see them kiss and tease Wyatt at dinnertime later on.

He hid round a corner less than five metres away from them and waited hopefully. Both of them had their backs to him and were talking in low whispers to each other. Chris couldn't make out what they were saying but he didn't really want to listen to any romantic slush anyway. Instead he studied Wyatt's girlfriend carefully. He couldn't see her face but she seemed both pretty and graceful. She had long, straight, dark, chocolaty brown hair, slightly lighter than his own and was also very lithe. Somehow she had squeezed into the tight leather outfit she was wearing, which was so securely fastened that it was like she had jet black skin covering half her body. Her golden arms lay idle by her sides and Chris noticed a strange red bird-shaped birthmark on her left wrist, but before he could take a closer look at it there was a flash of light, and a huge gust of wind blew past Chris, plastering the front of his white T-shirt to his chest. He immediately recognised this as a spell to stop people hearing their conversation. Wyatt's girlfriend apparently wasn't a mortal as she didn't seem in the least bit bothered at what Wyatt had just done.

Wyatt and the girl forgot all about whispering at this point and continued their conversation in their normal voices. Wyatt had been sloppy when casting the spell, as the shield had included Chris in it, and he was able to clearly hear everything they were saying.

"So, I'll ask you again," Wyatt said. "Will you help me?"

"I don't think I have a choice," she replied, anger lowering her voice.

"Would you like me to run through the procedure again?"

"I'm an assassin," she scorned. "I know my job. Once is enough."

"Yes," agreed Wyatt. "But you see, I don't want any mistakes. Luring an Elder from the heavens and killing him isn't a job to be taken lightly."

Chris' eyes grew wide; his hand flew to his mouth, stifling the cry that grew there.

"That's what they all say," the girl said insultingly. "Just because you're all too cowardly to do the job yourselves."

"I would be slightly more careful when addressing me if I were you," Wyatt threatened.

The girl fell silent.

"I chose you because you are you best," Wyatt continued. "Not for your backchat."

Chris retreated his head back around the wall, listening carefully, but Wyatt lowered the shield and finished the conversation in a whisper.

Chris peered warily back around the corner just in time to see the girl shimmer out and Wyatt follow swiftly afterwards.

He let out his unconsciously held breath, his head whirling with what he had just heard. His brother, Wyatt had hired a demon assassin to kill an Elder. The reason for it was impossible to comprehend; the Elders were good beings, in fact they were the only pure source of good that existed in the world and Wyatt was trying to kill one.

Suddenly the answer struck him like a bolt of lightning, sending sharp pangs of horrible realisation through his body. The deal. The deal Wyatt had made with the demon who had helped him find their mother's killer. Chris knew that nothing good ever came out of bargaining with demons but he couldn't believe that his brother would agree to something like that. Was he that desperate?

Chris remembered his brother's face when he had retold his story of finding, torturing and killing Sarak. His cold unforgiving eyes and the look of contempt for Chris and his grandfather for their lack of enthusiasm, and he knew Wyatt would be capable of such an atrocity. As much as he wanted to hide it from himself, his brother's face reappeared in his head, reminding him that it was true. Gone was the brother he had once held so close, admired and loved. In his place there was a monster that he didn't recognise. Who would kill.

Checking quickly to make sure nobody was around, Chris orbed the rest of the way home. His grandfather was humming merrily along to the radio in the kitchen and Chris poked his head around the door to say hello. He didn't have the heart to tell his grandfather about Wyatt; besides he wouldn't know how to tell him, he didn't deserve Chris to pile even more stress on top of him. But maybe he had made a mistake? Maybe what he had heard was out of context and there was a simple explanation to all of this? Maybe he should tell his brother he had heard him and he would put his mind at rest? Chris decided against it before he had even asked himself the question. This wasn't his brother. His brother was a person he looked up to and wished he could be like. A person whose father loved him, who had saved countless numbers of innocents, who used his powers for good. There was nothing admirable in what he was doing now.

Chris trudged slowly up the staircase, trying to make sense of his brother. He could be possessed. A demon could have put him under a spell in order to change him. Wyatt was extremely powerful. Chris had seen it with his own eyes. Demons viewed him as a threat and wanted him on their side, maybe to become the next Source? He remembered his mother telling him about the source one night. How she and her sisters had spent ages trying to vanquish it. The Source was no ordinary demon. It was the source of ultimate power and ultimate evil which took refuge in those worthy enough to receive it, corrupting them with power.

There hadn't been a Source since his mother had vanquished the previous one and chances were preparing for a new one. Chris shivered at the thought, but sought refuge in the fact that it wasn't too late to save Wyatt.

Upon entering his room therefore, Chris took the heavy Book of Shadows off the shelf and opened it onto the first page. He held out his hand and a sheet of paper and pencil flew into it. He could hear his mother's scolding of 'personal gain' but Chris didn't want to waste any time. The Book of Shadows was one of the largest books he had ever seen and writing down all the possible culprits for changing his brother would take a while.

He lay on his bed for hours, flipping and scribbling, not even going down for dinner until his grandfather came up and forced him. Even Wyatt came in once or twice but he didn't disturb Chris nor ask what he was doing until about half past eleven that night.

"Chris turn the light out, I'm trying to sleep," he groaned from underneath his duvet, his golden hair a messy mass of curls poking out the top.

"In a minute," Chris replied, still absorbed in his work.

He turned the page for what felt like the millionth time and looked upon a large coppery symbol which he recognised as the same red birthmark he had seen on the girl who had been with Wyatt earlier. The symbol turned out to be a phoenix and its owner, true to her word, an assassin.

'The Phoenix are a coven of elite assassin witches, identifiable by a phoenix shaped birthmark somewhere on their bodies.'

Chris shot a quick glance over to his brother's form and closed the book with a deep thud. He had to save the Elder somehow.

The Elders were very strict about keeping people other than Elders out of the heavens, but Chris thought his reason would be good enough.

But would they believe him? After all he was only a fourteen year old, and even if they did, what would they do to Wyatt? They'd surely think of some horrible way of punishing him. Perhaps binding his powers if he were lucky, or send him back to earth for recycling, as a different person. Chris couldn't let that happen. His brother was his only family apart from his grandfather and Chris didn't want to lose him as well, besides he would probably find the demon who made his brother think like this and reverse its spell and Wyatt would be Wyatt again. No, he couldn't tell the Elders.

If he knew who it was that Wyatt had hired an assassin witch to kill then he could warn him personally. Perhaps. But he didn't, and there seemed no other way to stop the Phoenix from doing her job. Unless he told his father.

Chris smiled to himself and scrambled off his bed and tiptoed silently into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

"Dad!" he whispered loudly to the ceiling.

There was no reply.

"Dad!" he said a little louder.

Again there was no reply.

Chris knew it was hopeless. His father had cut himself off from them entirely, he would never reply.

He sat on the side of the bath in defeat. The only way to stop her was to kill her, and Chris couldn't do it. Demons weren't human. They had no morals or feelings, and they killed unforgivingly, even one of their own kind in order to save their own skins. But the assassin wasn't a demon, she was a witch. A witch was human. They had feelings and all which demons lacked. The ability to judge right from wrong. She had been brought up to kill. It was her family's trait, their living. Chris couldn't bring himself to harm her and if Wyatt was right about her being the best, what chance did a teenager have against the likes of her.

He felt like he was leaving an innocent to die. He was the only person who knew about the plot and the only person who could do anything about it, yet here he was moping about whether it would be right to kill a killer. Chris wished someone would tell him what was good and what was evil.

Just then there was a knock on the bathroom door.

"Chris are you alright in there?" came his grandfather's voice.

Chris unlocked the door and opened it.

"Yeah I'm fine," he replied.

His grandfather entered unconvinced.

"I heard you calling your dad," he said softly.

"Oh…" Chris flushed. "Well… I…"

"He won't come Chris," his grandfather interrupted.

"I know," Chris said and his grandfather wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

"Hey Grandpa?" Chris said, thinking.

"Mmm?"

"What would you do if someone you knew had hired someone to kill someone?"

His grandfather frowned at him.

"What kind of a question is that?"

"Just a question. What would you do?"

"Call the police, I suppose," he replied.

"But what if there were no police, or no one would believe you?" Chris persisted.

"Are you getting into trouble?" his grandfather asked warily.

"No it's for a project at school," Chris lied regretfully.

His grandfather seemed to believe him, simply because Chris had never lied to him before and had never had reason to.

"I'd warn the person who was being targeted," he said.

"What if you didn't know who they were of how to find them?" Chris said. "But you had a gun or something and would be able to track down the assassin and kill him?"

Chris' grandfather looked stumped.

"Are there any federals?" he asked hopefully.

Chris shook his head.

"Nobody."

His grandfather rubbed his hand down his face with his free arm and sighed.

"Well if I could track down the assassin then I suppose I could follow him until he attacks and them do something," he gave a hollow laugh. "But knowing my luck I'll probably end up getting killed in the process and that wouldn't stop him from killing the person I was trying to protect."

Chris yawned before he could stop himself causing his grandfather to add:

"I think it's time to go to bed now."

He patted Chris on the back promptingly, who wearily obeyed; turning only once he had reached his bedroom door in order to bid his grandfather goodnight.

Chris fell into bed and pulled the warm covers closely around him. He didn't intend to fall asleep until he had though of a way to save the Elder, but after an hour slowly past, he fell unsuccessfully into a troubled sleep.


	7. Chapter 6 – Born to Kill

**Authors Note: **I think the story has been going a little slowly so far, but I promise you this is the last slow moving chapter. From chapter seven onwards poor old Chris' life goes down hill.

Keep the fantastic reviews coming. I really, really appreciate them!

**Chapter 6 – Born to Kill**

"Chris telephone!"

Chris woke to his grandfather calling up the stairs the following day. He shot out of bed with a start, looking at the clock as he did so. It was seven minutes past ten and he had seriously overslept. Although it was the weekend, he had work to do.

He sprinted down the stairs, two at a time and took the phone from his grandfather.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hi Chris, it's Ant," came the voice at the other end.

"Oh hi!" Chris said.

"Why weren't you there last night?"

"Last night?" Chris pondered recollecting the events of yesterday. "Oh jeez, sorry Ant!"

He remembered the bowling alley.

"I had something really urgent to attend to and I kind of forgot about it. Sorry."

"Chris, you always have something to attend to," Ant complained. "Don't you want to hang around with us anymore?"

"No!" replied Chris. "I mean, I do, its just…"

"Great then maybe we can do something today?"

"Sorry Ant, I'm kind of busy this weekend."

"Oh," his friend replied disappointed.

"Listen if I have any free time I'll call you."

"Don't worry, I'm sure what you're doing is far more important," Ant said sarcastically.

"No Ant, please…" Chris begged.

"See you on Monday."

"Ant…" Chris started, but the other line went dead.

He replaced the receiver with a sigh and went into the kitchen for breakfast.

"Hey what's wrong?" his grandfather asked looking up from the newspaper.

"Nothing," Chris replied forcing a smile and sitting down.

"I have to go shopping," his grandfather continued. "Do you want to come with me, maybe we could play some soccer in the park on the way?"

Chris shook his head.

"No thanks Grandpa. I'd love to but I've got some work to do."

"Ok, that's fine," his grandfather replied. "Your project?"

"Yes," Chris answered. "Sort of."

"Right," said his grandfather standing and folding up the newspaper. "I'll see you in an hour."

"Bye," said Chris through a mouthful of cereal, causing his grandfather to frown at him.

Chris quickly finished his breakfast, slipped the bowl into the dishwasher and ran upstairs to change, but was interrupted by a knock on the front door. He opened it and saw a strange girl standing in the porch. She was a few years older than him and was very beautiful. She had long straight chocolate hair and an olive complexion. Her dark, kohl rimmed eyes held many emotions but Chris was unable to read them as at the moment she looked rather unimpressed to be greeted by a boy in pyjamas.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely.

"Yes," she replied smiling and brushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear. The black sleeve of her leather jacket pulled up slightly and Chris saw the top of the red birthmark on her wrist. It was the assassin.

"I was wondering if Wyatt was in."

"No he's not," Chris replied friendlily. "If you like I can take a message."

"No, I'd rather speak to him myself," she answered.

"Well he should be coming back soon," Chris said, stepping backwards. "Come in a wait for him."

"Ok, thank you," the assassin said following Chris into the living room.

Chris noticed her observing his pyjamas and he involuntarily blushed.

"Sorry about my attire," he said.

The assassin smiled, waving her hand casually.

"No worries," she replied, sounding slightly sad.

"So are you a friend from Wyatt's work?" he asked rummaging through a drawer to find the crystals that he and his brother kept there in order to trap demons who attacked.

"No, just an acquaintance," she replied.

"I heard you talking yesterday afternoon," Chris said in the same casual voice.

"I see," she replied unconcerned. "Then why did you ask me who I was?"

"You're not going to help my brother kill anyone," Chris said severely, turning around.

The assassin raised her eyebrows.

"Oops," she replied offhandedly. "I have no concern in helping him believe me. It's my job."

"But you'll get something out of it, won't you."

"Yes," the assassin smiled wryly. "I'll get to live."

Suddenly she shimmered out and back in again next to Chris, pressing an atheme to his throat. Chris wasn't intimidated by this as he knew she wanted him to be.

"Do you kill everyone who knows more than they should?" he asked lightly, lowering two crystals to the floor silently with a subtle movement of his arm.

"I don't make mistakes," she sneered threateningly and Chris dropped the final crystal in front of him causing an instant cage of energy to surround her.

Now it was his turn to smile.

"Almost," he said.

The girl smiled at herself and the atheme disappeared in an orange glow.

"You're pretty smart," she stated.

Chris shook his head.

"I'm just not stupid," he corrected her and orbed upstairs, picking up the Book of Shadows and the suitcase full of potion ingredients before orbing back in again.

"The Book of Shadows," the assassin murmured recognising the book under his arm.

Chris put it gently on the coffee table.

"Nice isn't it," he replied flatly.

"Well it's certainty honourable to have an entry in it," she said. "Even if it isn't for a nice reason."

"So you do realise what you are doing is wrong," Chris said, flipping through the pages to the Phoenix page.

"It's hard not to," she replied. "Especially when you have a conscience."

"Uh huh," Chris replied lazily, unzipping the case and pulling out the cauldron and a couple of bottles.

"I take it Wyatt wasn't always into hiring assassins," she said.

"What do you care?" Chris asked defensively adding a silvery powder to the cauldron.

"I didn't have anything to do with it," she said.

"But you let him hire you," Chris said.

"He threatened to kill my family. Everyone. I had no choice. I hate killing," she added softly.

Chris turned and looked at her. Suddenly he found he could read her like a book, but he turned back. She was an assassin; he couldn't trust her at all.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" he asked.

"Because once upon a time I used to think that killing was good. My mother did it, my aunts, everyone. Until I was told to do it."

The potion Chris was making made a small cracking sound and a cloud of smoke rose from the top. Chris waved it away with one hand.

"So you expect me to feel guilty for vanquishing you?" he asked. "I've vanquished demons before. Believe me, this won't feel any different."

"This has nothing to do with me," the assassin said. "Not everyone follows in their family's footsteps. Although I hated mine's line of work, I carried it on because I was weak. You were brought up by good. Either way we were both loved but…"

She was cut off by Wyatt orbing into the room. His eyes grew wide when he saw the scene in front of him.

"Chris," he exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

He kicked one of the crystals out of the way and the cage of energy sparked out, but the assassin stayed standing where she was.

"I'm vanquishing her, what does it look like I'm doing?" Chris snapped unintentionally still puzzling over what he had just been told.

"She's not a threat Chris," Wyatt said, holding out his hands and causing the milky coloured stones to fly into them.

"No?" Chris looked up from the cauldron and raised an eyebrow.

Wyatt ignored him and addressed the assassin.

"Bianca, I hope it had been done."

Chris noticed that her face had closed up and her eyes now cold and expressionless.

"It is," she replied.

"Good," Wyatt smiled callously turning away.

"Our bargain?" Bianca asked firmly.

Wyatt turned back half-heartedly.

"You're safe."

She looked at Chris before glaring back at Wyatt.

"We better be," she said and shimmered out.

Wyatt headed up the stairs but Chris didn't want him to leave.

"You murderer!" he spat.

Wyatt wheeled around.

"What?" he asked, clearly not believing what he had just heard.

"I said you murderer," Chris repeated slowly.

"I don't understand what you're talking about," Wyatt said.

"I heard you yesterday," Chris said. "That was the deal wasn't it. The demon who helped you find Sarak did so only if you killed an Elder."

"Chris?"

"So you hired an assassin to kill him because you were too scared to do it yourself."

"You don't understand."

"Don't understand," repeated Chris. "No I don't understand. I don't understand why you didn't just torture the demon into giving you the information like you did with all the others."

"He has valuable information," said Wyatt. "Tons of it, and having him on my side would be a very good thing indeed."

"So you were prepared to kill an Elder for that?"

"But wait until you hear what that Elder did to him," Wyatt persuaded.

"Elders are the source of all that is good in the world, they are always just in their actions," Chris retorted.

"Are they?" Wyatt queried. "Elders are just like demons, except they have a different understanding of the word power. That's all they're after Chris. Power. All good and evil are, are two sides in a war for power, and whoever has the most power wins. The Elders have us all corrupted, they want us to believe that they are right, that this is the way to live, this is the right thing to do. It's a lot of crap Chris and we fell for it. It's time you knew the truth bro because out lives have been a lie."

Wyatt walked back down the stairs and stopped just in front of Chris.

"No," Chris said, tears springing to his eyes. This wasn't his brother talking.

"I have a lot of power," Wyatt said slowly. "Think of all the things the Elders have done to us. Mum and out aunts had to devote their lives to do their dirty work for them. And look where it got them. Six feet under. And Dad, they took him away too. Is that good Chris?"

Wyatt didn't wait for him to answer but continued.

"We don't need Elders. They have no right to mess with our lives like this."

Chris gazed into his brothers cold eyes.

"Don't you feel anything anymore Wy?" he asked softly.

"Feelings?" Wyatt snorted. "Emotions are a weakness, a weakness that the Elders use against us, and if you are going to win any battle nobody can see what you really think, how you really feel, because that's how you fail."

Chris drew in a rattling breath pushing his tears away, blanking his face.

Wyatt smiled.

"Good," he said.

Chris shook his head slowly.

"I'm going to find who did this to you and I'm going to save you," he said calmly.

"Then help me destroy the Elders," Wyatt said.

In that brief moment all Chris' emotions came flooding back.

"WYATT STOP IT!" he screamed. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

Wyatt flicked his wrist sending Chris sailing into the soft sofa behind him.

"No?" he asked. "Watch me."


	8. Chapter 7 – Massacre in the Heavens

**Authors Note: **Sorry for the long wait, but I promise you I will never leave this story until it is finished. That also reminds me that tomorrow I will be starting back at school to begin my A-levels and a part time job. Nooooooooo! That means I will not have as much time to write my story and upload it. Sorry.

Thank you again and again for the reviews, they mean a lot. And encase anyone has forgotten, I don't own Charmed and I am just borrowing the characters for a bit.

**Chapter 7 – Massacre in the Heavens**

A year progressed slowly by and Chris held true to his word. He often made visits to the underworld, spying on demons who could possibly have anything to do with his brother's turning. Everything turned up negative and he began to consider that maybe his brother had changed of his own accord.

Wyatt now barely even spoke to him and was frequently moody and easily agitated. He began spending less and less time at home and many a time wouldn't come back in the evenings for meals or bed.

Chris and his grandfather grew closer, spending all the time they could spare together, cooking, playing soccer, tennis and sometimes, if Chris could get his grandfather into the boots, they would go rollerblading down the road. His grandfather told him stories of his mother and aunts when they were little and even some of the unpleasant experiences he had had with demons in the past. In return Chris would orb his grandfather upstairs and down until he became more used to it and almost actually enjoyed the experience.

One day Chris decided it would be fun to orb to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge and watch the sunset. So he and his grandfather sat side by side against a support beam wrapped up warmly in their coats and watched the sky deepen and the golden sun slip beneath the magenta horizon. They watched the city's lights flicker on one by one, the unending river of cars beneath them flowing on.

It was the most beautiful and tranquil place Chris had ever been to, just to feel the wind whipping through his hair as life below continued, gave him a sense of peacefulness and content which he rarely felt.

It was too good to last. One day his grandfather gathered both him and Wyatt into the living room. Chris could see in his eyes that whatever he had to tell them wouldn't be good news.

His grandfather opened and closed his mouth a few times, wondering how to begin before Wyatt grew annoyed.

"Just get on with it," he said impatiently.

Their grandfather drew in a deep breath.

"I've got Connery Heart Disease," he told them.

Chris felt like he had chucked a bucket of icy water over him. He froze, feeling all colour leaving him. His grandfather was joking wasn't he?

He saw his grandfather looking at him then Wyatt alternately, awaiting a reply anxiously. Chris tried to think of something to say. Anything. But it was impossible.

Wyatt broke the silence, although addressing Chris rather than their grandfather.

"I told you he'd be next," he said expressionlessly, and stood up looking directly into his grandfather's eyes.

"That's fine if you want to leave us too," he said sarcastically. "After all Chris and I don't need anyone to look after us, do we Chris?"

Chris looked up.

"Yes we do," he whispered.

"I'm not leaving you," their grandfather said, saddened by the way his grandchildren had taken the news.

"Yes, I won't be able to run around like before, but I'll still be here for you."

Wyatt snorted.

"Yeah," he answered reproachfully. "Until you have heart failure. Chris we should leave now."

"Move out?" their grandfather asked.

"Yeah move out," Wyatt confirmed. "Before you put us through any more pain."

"I'm not leaving Grandpa," Chris was finally able to say.

Wyatt frowned at him.

"Chris," he said. "Grandpa is going to die. He's going to die and abandon us, and we're going to have to go to his funeral and mourn and feel pain again, whilst he gets to see Mum, Auntie Phoebe, Auntie Paige, Grandma, Grams and everyone again. Is that fair? If we leave now, we won't have to go through any of it, and Grandpa will get a taste of what it's like to be alone."

"I'm not going Wyatt," Chris said firmly.

At first he had found it hard to refuse his brother. He knew that he would be looked after and protected by him, but what he was doing was wrong, and Chris was beginning to find it easier to stare into the muscular, six and a half foot, seventeen year olds' cold yet enticing eyes and decline all offers that he could and would provide for him.

"I'm staying here," he said. "Grandpa needs us to help and support him, not turn our backs on him."

Wyatt looked round at their grandfather who was devastated at Wyatt.

"Please stay?" he asked softly.

Wyatt shook his head and turned back to Chris, who was still staring stubbornly at his brother.

"I'll come back for you," he said. "One day you will realise that I was right all along."

He orbed out, but Chris didn't take his eyes off the spot he had once been in. His grandfather embraced him tightly.

"Thank you Chris," he whispered. "I'll never forget what you've done."

And he didn't. Never had Chris been more certain that he'd made the right choice. The following year was by far one of the best he'd ever had, and although his grandfather couldn't do many of the things they'd used to, they frequently orbed up to the top of the Golden Gate, and slowly his grandfather became less afraid of falling off and would stand up and peer over the edge of the beam watching the cars whiz along below them.

They would sit for hours talking about anything and everything and they would constantly have baking competitions to see who could make the best cake or biscuits or pasta or pies.

Chris missed his brother terribly; he didn't know where he had gone as he had cloaked himself from him. He also missed his mother. Sure his grandfather was the best grandfather the world could ever have, but he wasn't the same as his mother. He didn't wear her perfume, nor sing in the shower, nor tell him off like she had done and he would have given anything in the world just to hear her laugh again.

A couple of months after his sixteenth birthday, Chris went into the kitchen for breakfast, to find a leprechaun sitting in his place. His grandfather was there as usual and he raised his eyebrows at Chris when he spotted the strange little man.

"Good morning," Chris said to both his grandfather and the leprechaun.

"Oh it's anything but a good morning," the leprechaun replied in a heavy Irish accent, peering curiously into a box of cereal.

"Why not?" Chris asked, sitting down in his brother's old place instead. "And not to be rude or anything, but who are you?"

The leprechaun looked at him for the first time.

"Me name's Reilly. I'm a friend of your late Aunt Paige's," he said. "I thought it my duty to inform you of the terrible atrocity that has occurred."

"Terrible atrocity?" Chris asked worried, glancing at his grandfather who looked as equally concerned.

The leprechaun dipped his tiny hand into the box he was holding and took out a cornflake, sniffing at it suspiciously before devouring it.

"Yes," he replied. "There has been a massacre in the heavens. An army of Darklighters invaded. All the Elders are dead."

"They're dead!" Chris cried in horror.

"Every single one," Reilly nodded.

"But…but Darklighters don't work together. They work alone."

Darklighters were the opposite of Whitelighters. They orbed with black and dark purple orbs and it was their mission in life to kill Whitelighters. They carried a crossbow with them wherever they went, which could shoot out poisonous arrows. The poison was fatal to anyone with Whitelighter blood in them, which included both Chris and Wyatt, and the arrow was pretty dangerous in itself. Luckily Darklighters weren't very clever beings, and many Whitelighters had escaped attacks by them. But although Whitelighters could heal other people, they were unable to heal themselves, and many had been painfully killed in this way. Chris wasn't sure where Darklighters had originated from, but Whitelighters, who were already dead anyway, and couldn't be killed again in any other way other than the lethal arrow that the Darklighters possessed.

Chris had always been glad he was half Whitelighter as it meant he was slightly tougher against the elements then the average witch, but every perk had its downside, and for all, like him who were blessed with one of their parents being a Whitelighter, the Darklighter's arrows was it.

Reilly nodded at what Chris had just said.

"True, but they must have been pretty organised in order to kill the Elders," he said dolefully.

"What's going to happen now?" Chris asked softly, knowing that this was the perfect time for evil to gain an upper hand.

"Just accept the fact that we probably won't be here tomorrow," the leprechaun said, munching on another cornflake.

Chris suddenly remembered that his father was an Elder.

"All of them?" he asked slowly, knowing the reply.

Reilly nodded.

Chris buried his face in his hands and let his breath out slowly before looking up at his grandfather.

"Dad," he croaked his voice barely audible even to himself.

His grandfather came to his side and put his arm around him.

"Thank you," Chris told the leprechaun who seemed to be enjoying the cereal immensely.

"No problem," said Reilly jumping off the chair. "Don't give up just yet though. You may be lucky, after all that's what I'm all about. Nice to meet you both."

Chris smiled politely and his grandfather spoke for the first time.

"Wait a second," he told the small man, opening a cupboard and pulling out an unopened box of cornflakes and handing it to him.

The leprechaun's eyes grew wide in delight.

"Bless you," he said grinning widely and ran off in a blur of colour.

Chris stood up shaking slightly.

"You're not orbing up there Chris," his grandfather said sternly, knowing exactly what he was thinking. "It will be infested with Darklighters."

"I'm just going to look," Chris promised.

"You'll be killed!" his grandfather exclaimed.

"Not if I'm careful," Chris replied determinedly.

"They're gone son," his grandfather said sympathetically. "Please don't."

Chris thought about it for a while. His grandfather was right. He would be risking his life to find out something he already knew.

"But…how?" he asked.

"I'm sure a lot of people will be asking themselves that," his grandfather said. "But for now you should probably have something to eat."

Chris' question was answered that evening when he and his grandfather were playing a not so enjoyable game of cards. Chris had been sure that even though his father had said he would never see them again that he would. Now it was impossible. The Darklighters had made sure of that. His father had been through so much. Given up so much. It wasn't right him dying in this way.

Their game was interrupted by a swirl of dark orbs entering in the corner.

Chris looked around in panic.

"Grandpa, get behind the sofa!" he yelled, getting ready to throw the Darklighter across the room as soon as it had fully formed. But it wasn't a Darklighter at all and Chris lowered his hands in shock.

"Wyatt?" he gasped.

Upon hearing the name, his grandfather picked himself off the floor, dusted himself off and straightened his clothes.

Chris stared at his brother. He had changed a lot in a year. His curly, blond hair had grown, and hung wildly above his shoulders. The coldness from his eyes had spread to cover his entire face, and his clothes were black.

"Wyatt," he repeated. "You've…"

"Changed?" Wyatt asked expressionlessly.

Chris nodded, lost for words before suddenly realisation dawned on him.

"You," he said, his eyes narrowing. "You killed them."

Wyatt smiled grimly.

"You're…you're…evil!" Chris tried to find the right word.

Wyatt laughed briefly.

"No, I'm powerful," he corrected Chris. "I made those Darklighters see my way. I trained them to work together and…" he shrugged. "Guess what, it worked."

"You killed Dad," Chris muttered angrily as his grandfather realised what was going on with a gasp.

"Not personally, no," Wyatt said. "I didn't have to. He was already dead when I found him. Only took one arrow to bring him down you know."

Wyatt dug into the pockets of his dark trousers and threw a small object to Chris.

"I though you may want this back," he said.

Chris caught it and looked at the thing in his hand. It was the blue Ludo counter he had thrown at his father a couple of years ago.

"Wy…" Chris couldn't continue, and looked back up at his brother who was observing their grandfather with the faintest amusement. He spun his head to face his grandfather who was clutching his arm, his face twisted in agony.

"WYATT STOP DOING THAT!" Chris yelled, running the short distance to his grandfather's side.

"I'm not doing anything," Wyatt replied, not moving a muscle.

"Grandpa?" Chris asked his grandfather uncertainty, touching him gently on the shoulder.

"My…heart," his grandfather panted.

Chris looked frantically at his brother who was now smiling slightly.

"Told you this would happen Christopher," he said.

"Wyatt, heal him," Chris said.

Wyatt smiled a fraction wider.

"Uh uh. No can do bro," he smirked. "You see, it's against the rules. To start with, it was self inflicted by smoking all those cigars, and also it isn't magically imposed."

Tears started to Chris' eyes.

"He's dying Wy. Besides the Elders aren't alive anymore."

"He's got to die sooner or later," Wyatt said firmly.

Chris began to help his grandfather into the position he had shown him to put him in if he had a heart attack.

"And we don't want a feeble old man dragging us behind when we're ruling the world."

Chris stopped.

"Ruling the world?" he repeated. "Are you crazy?"

"No," Wyatt said calmly.

Chris smoothed his grandfather's hair back comfortingly.

"Don't worry; I'm going to phone an ambulance."

His grandfather nodded breathlessly and Chris ran to the hallway to where the phone was.

He dialled 911 as quickly as he could and was greeted by a cool, female operator's voice. Her calm attitude made Chris panic even more, but finally she assured him that an ambulance was on the way.

He threw the phone down and ran back into the living room.

Wyatt was draped casually in an armchair and his grandfather still struggling to breathe on the sofa.

Chris dropped to his side and rubbed his hand in circles on his back, which his mother had done many a time in order to calm him down.

"It's ok Grandpa, there's an ambulance on the way," he said softly.

His grandfather tried to reply, but Chris saw that he was unable to and so his grandfather took his free hand and squeezed it lovingly.

"I'm the most powerful being in the world," Wyatt continued, but Chris ignored him. "And together we could be great. Do great things. Create a world which we could be happy in and would never have to go through pain or suffering again."

Chris could hear the faint sound of ambulance sirens in the distance.

"Just a few more minutes Grandpa," he consoled him.

Wyatt stood up and patted Chris on the shoulder who shook his hand away angrily.

"I'll be back for you," Wyatt promised, and orbed out in his new whirl of dark light.

Just a few seconds after he left, two paramedics ran in.

Chris stepped back in order to keep out of their way and watched them working on his grandfather. Presently, after loading him onto a stretcher, one of them came over to him.

"You alright?" he asked.

Chris nodded.

"Is he going to be ok?" he asked.

"I don't want to give you false hope, but I'll say he has a fair chance," the paramedic replied, patting him on the back. "Come on, you can ride in the back if you like."

Chris smiled feebly. His grandfather was a fighter and he would prove Wyatt wrong. He would live with him for at least another ten years, and they would do many more exciting things together.

Chris sat by his grandfather's side for the entire journey and held his had tightly. He was barely conscious but still managed to smile at Chris through the oxygen mask.

"You're going to get better Grandpa," he said. "Then we can go and watch the sunset on the bridge again."

His grandfather carried on smiling, his eyes drifting closed. The monitor next to him gave a screech and a horizontal line ripped through it.

Instantly the paramedic next to him jumped into action.

Chris shrank back in his seat, tears spilling out of his eyes and trickling down his face. His grandfather was giving up.

"Don't leave me Grandpa," he whispered closing his eyes tightly and blocking his ears with his fingers to keep out the terrible shriek.

After what seemed like an eternity, the paramedic touched him lightly on the knee and Chris snapped his eyes open and uncovered his ears. The screeching had stopped, and his first though was that his grandfather was ok, but it was then that he realised that although the heart monitor had stopped its frightful high note, it had also stopped its rhythmical beeping. It had been turned off.

Chris looked at the paramedic wide eyed.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No," Chris breathed staring at his grandfather's unmoving chest. Willing it to breathe. To do anything except stay there in its stationary position.

That was it, Chris realised, his vision swimming. His family were gone, and they weren't ever coming back.


	9. Chapter 8 – The Beginning of the End

**Authors Note: **Hi everyone! My goodness I haven't updated in a long time. I am very sorry for the delay. I have literally not written or typed up any more of my story since I last uploaded a chapter. I didn't know I'd be so busy. But I promised you I wouldn't give up my story until it was completed so here is the next chapter!

Oh fantastic reviews, I love them all!

**Chapter 8 – The Beginning of the End**

Chris' world had shattered into millions of pieces and he could feel the tiny fragments falling around him. He had lied to the people in the hospital who had been so kind to him and told them that his Uncle Henry would be coming to pick him up. In reality his Uncle Henry had been killed alongside his wife Paige and their unborn child eight years ago and Chris had orbed home. He knew Wyatt would be coming for him soon but he wasn't going to go with him. So he had collected up as much as he could and moved into P3, a nightclub that his mother had owned but hadn't been open since she had died.

Chris had never been inside P3 before and shone his torch around the dark building critically. He dumped his heavy rucksack on the wooden floor and a thick cloud of dust rose up, causing him to cough. He waved the hazy screen away from his face with one hand and continued to look around the room he was in.

There was a large stage along one wall where bands had once played. One lone amplifier now remained there, frosted like the lighting above it with cobwebs. There was a drinks bar at one end of the room which looked as if it had been grand in its day, but the varnished tops were now grey with dust. Chris walked over to it and tried opening a few cupboards which slid open fairly easily considering they hadn't been used in years. Except for a few spiders which scurried quickly away from the torch light, annoyed at being disturbed he found them all empty.

There wasn't much else in the room apart from four or five moth eaten sofas, so Chris picked up his rucksack and opened a black door a small distance from the bar. He found himself in what looked like an office. It was a small room with a bathroom leading off to one side, containing another collapsing sofa and a desk. He shone his torch along the walls; almost every inch of them covered in peeling posters of various singers and bands who had once played in the club. Many of them had fallen to the floor which was littered with newspapers and even a couple of drink cans.

Chris tried the light switch hopefully but nothing happened. He stepped cautiously across the floor and into the bathroom. A cockroach scuttled across the tiled floor causing him to pull a face.

This was going to be fun, he thought sarcastically.

Because it was a nightclub, the bathroom was the only room which contained a window. Chris couldn't open any doors because if his brother realised someone was living in P3 then he would be onto him in a flash.

He threw a couple of blankets onto the sofa in the office and inched onto it gingerly, praying it wouldn't crumble beneath him and that there weren't any cockroaches living in it. He had met many disgusting demons before with many revolting habits but yet cockroaches still made his skin crawl.

As he lay there in the darkness, his mind drifted to the unhappy occurrences of the day that had reduced his life to this miserable state. He was pretty sure that he couldn't feel any worse than this, but he forced his sadness back. Now was no time to wallow in his own self pity, he had a job to do. He had to stop his brother from taking over the world. It sounded ridiculous just thinking about it but he knew that he had to do something, after all Wyatt was family. As long as he was able to cloak himself from his brother he would have a chance in fighting the demons and darklighters who worked for him, and just maybe he could save his brother from destroying all that their family had died to build.

The next day Chris orbed to his grandfather's house in the hope he could retrieve anything else before any government officials took over the buildings.

The moment he formed there he realised that something was wrong. He looked around the practically bare living room in shock. This was not how he'd left it. Was it possible that someone had been sent round already? Chris pushed the idea from his head. His grandfather had only died last night which meant… he stopped. Wyatt had been again.

Suddenly a pair of thick, muscular arms wrapped themselves around his thorax, pinning his arms to his sides and crushing his ribs, causing him to exhale with a gasp. He watched helplessly as the room melted away and the demon shimmered out with him.

They reappeared in the instantly recognisable place Chris feared they would go. The dark, dank, musty smell of rotting flesh reached his nostrils before the underworld shimmered into view before him. He was surprised to see an extraordinary high domed roof for a demon's cave materialise, the room slightly circular in shape with a raised pentagon shaped platform in the middle, white lines from each corner met in the middle of it where a book stood on a thick, wooden stand. Around the platform many demons had gathered; a mumbling swarm of black, which faded into silence as Chris and his captor shimmered into view.

Chris' first though was that this was the end. It would have to be a miracle if he escaped alive out of this mess. He realised with a shudder that all demonic eyes were turned his way. Waiting. Was he to be part of a ritual sacrifice? He didn't want to wait and find out and tried to orb out. Unfortunately the demon seemed aware that he would try something along those lines and the second Chris felt his body disappear into orbs he was roughly pulled back to earth. He spun round to face his captor and flung his right arm into the air making it fly through the air and scrape painfully across the floor.

"Leaving so soon?" a deep voice queried.

"Wyatt," Chris stopped, his arm still raised high and scammed the crowd of demons for his brother.

The demon he had thrown to the floor frantically scrambled to its feet as the others parted to allow Wyatt to walk down the middle of them.

Chris let his arm drop limply by his side and he glared at his brother.

"What did you do with Grandpa's stuff?" he demanded.

Wyatt gave a hollow laugh.

"What? You want the government to take it?" he asked.

"Don't you think they're going to wonder what happened to it?"

Wyatt shook his head with a wry smile.

"They're going to have a lot more on their minds then missing furniture," he said simply.

"What do you mean?" Chris replied slowly, a horrific scene already playing through his mind.

"Let's just say that you should be glad that you accepted my invitation,"

"Rather compulsory don't you think?" Chris retorted as Wyatt turned away from him and motioned to two demons.

"Show our guest to his room," he said.

Chris watched the advancing demons for a second before sending them crashing back where they had come from.

There were a few indignant roars from demons who had been crushed by their soaring comrades and a couple of others went up in flames.

Chris glanced back at his brother, who turned back to face him.

"That's not like you at all Chris," he said with twisted delight.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "But you killed the Elders and Grandpa yesterday and one could argue that that wasn't like you either."

"I didn't kill Grandpa," Wyatt reasoned.

"No?" Chris scoffed.

"He was dying," continued Wyatt. "It was inevitable."

"You've put the entire magical community in danger," Chris said struggling to keep calm. "And for what, your own benefit!"

"For our benefit," Wyatt corrected. "We deserve better then what we have been given and you should be happy that I have found a way to help us."

"Yes well great job. I haven't felt this good in years," Chris replied in the same sarcastic tone that came so naturally when confronted by demons. It hurt him that his brother now had the same effect on him. Wyatt seemed unfazed however.

"The world will be ours Chris. With my power I can control it and ours combined we can rule it."

Chris couldn't help but let out a small smothered laugh.

"You're barmy," he said.

"You may not appreciate what I am about to do," Wyatt said. "But one day you will thank me and we will be great."

He waved a finger and on the opposite side of the platform to where all the demons were still standing two thick metal cages appeared, both only large enough to take a maximum of two people. One of the cages already contained a person. A young woman, probably only in her early twenties, but her body had aged from the time she had spent in captivity. Her clothes were shredded rags which hung on her bones like strips of filthy cotton on a washing line. Her hair was a matted nest. Perhaps once blonde, but now a grime plugged grey. Her sunken eyes screaming for mercy as her wasted fingers wrapped around the coppery bars to support the skull she pressed there.

Wyatt twitched his finger again and the door to the empty cage swung open.

Chris jerked his head sharply away from the woman to stare at his brother, suddenly feeling very scared. He took a step backwards and shook his head briefly.

Wyatt raised his arm slowly and Chris felt himself lift into the air. He instantly began to struggle in the hope that it would weaken the force that held him there.

"Wyatt let me go!" he shouted, sending telekinetic waves back at his brother who simply reflected them with his other hand before he swept his hand towards the open cage door and Chris watched helplessly as the glinting, coppery coloured bars flew closer as he shot towards them. He pulled his arms over his head, just before he fell through the open door and landed heavily on the dusty floor inside, crashing into the bars at the back in the process. Instantly he sprung to his feet, knowing from experience that it paid for the sweet seconds of recovery, but even then he was too late. He stumbled to the opening just as its closing clang reverberated around his new prison, trapping him.

Not ready to give up yet, Chris flicked his fingers at the lock, but instead of opening the door, his telekinesis bounced off an invisible shield and shot back at him, knocking him off balance.

"It blocks magic," Wyatt said, approaching the cage whilst Chris picked himself off the floor. "Handy of the previous source to leave them behind for me, isn't it?"

Chris glanced at the woman in the cage next to him before looking back at Wyatt.

"How long has she been here?" he asked.

Wyatt laughed and Chris cocked his eyebrows questioningly.

"Only about half a year," he said. "But don't worry. Today will be her last day in captivity."

"Why? Because you've found somebody to replace her?" Chris asked.

"You're only here for your own safety," said Wyatt. "Knowing you, you'll probably do something rash."

"Why?" demanded Chris.

"Because," Wyatt turned to point at the book on the stand on the platform. "That is the Grimoire that our family kindly hid in Peru."

Chris froze. He remembered the Grimoire from the stories his mother used to tell him about the Source. The Grimoire was part of the ceremony which released the source into a willing and suitable being. Without it a new Source couldn't be appointed and because his mother and aunts had hidden the Grimoire many years ago, there hadn't been a new Source for a very long time.

"Taking over the world is no easy task," Wyatt said. "I need more power."

"The Source's power is no ordinary power Wyatt!" Chris exclaimed. "The Source is an evil full of power which corrupts the beholder. It will take over you until you aren't aware of anything you are doing anymore!"

"I know the stories," dismissed Wyatt. "That only happened because the demons were weak. I am not weak. I am the most powerful being in the world and I already have much more power than the Source. It cannot corrupt me. I will corrupt it and I will take its power and destroy it."

He paused to allow Chris to speak but he said nothing. He didn't know what to say. His brother was far away from reasoning.

"Watch and learn little brother," Wyatt continued and turned to walk towards the Grimoire.

An old, robed demon stepped forward onto the platform. Wyatt placed his hand on top of the Grimoire and Chris sunk to his knees in helplessness.

"Wyatt Matthew Halliwell," the old demon began. "Are you prepared to accept the power and position of the Source before all the leaders of the underworld?"

"No," whispered Chris.

"I am," replied Wyatt.

"Repeat the oath after me," the old demon said, before beginning to repeat lines from the Grimoire in a strange language that Wyatt echoed with ease.

Chris couldn't bear to watch anymore. He looked at the woman in the cage next to him, who was sitting in the corner of her cell, a blank expression on her face and scrambled as close to her form as he could get.

"What's your name?" he asked, not caring about sounding foolish.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she replied, in a voice so raspy that Chris could barely understand what she was saying.

"Sure it does," Chris replied. "Are you a witch?"

The woman nodded and looked ready to say something before a blinding blue light pierced the dullness of the cavern, forcing Chris to screw up his eyes to shield them from the brightness. Wyatt was cloaked in the light, beams of it being emitted from every part of his body, causing him to rise a couple of feet into the air.

The entrancing sight was short lived however and the moment the light disappeared the reality of the situation came flooding back. Wyatt turned his face so Chris could see that his eyes were no longer that of a human, but two, black, endless pits. For a second Chris saw the flicker of flame inside the holes which were no longer his brothers but the eyes of the Source.

He expected to see the flames die out, but instead their intensity grew until they covered the darkness entirely, and it wasn't stopping there, golden amber was burning out of his eyes.

Chris clambered to his feet in curiosity and amazement. The old demon quickly retreated from the platform and the other demons looked as equally as disturbed.

Wyatt gave a violent hiss and what looked like a black swarm of flies poured out his eyes. Chris recognised this as the Source his mother had described in her stories but the moment it had exited Wyatt, every particle of the cloud like shape crackled, fizzed and exploded like thousands of tiny sparklers, and the Grimoire crumbled to ash. In a matter of seconds Wyatt's eyes had returned to normal and he smiled victoriously.

Chris saw that the demons still looked unsure of what to make of the whole affair but Wyatt seemed anxious to completed the ceremony.

"And now for the sacrifice!" he announced and conjured an atheme into his outstretched hand.

Whatever the demons had been feeling previously the mention of the word sacrifice and the sight of glinting steel in Wyatt's hand reminded them of what was the norm and they cheered.

Wyatt tilted his head slightly and the cage door of the woman's cell swung open. He walked over to it and physically dragged her out.

Chris ran against the bars of his own prison and shook them with all the strength he had.

"STOP IT WYATT!" he yelled. "YOU CAN'T KILL INNOCENTS!"

Wyatt ignored him and the woman didn't ever resist his cruel touch.

"WYATT LISTEN TO ME!"

Wyatt dumped her on the floor and began chanting a memorised ritual.

"WY…?"

He raised the atheme high above her and Chris hid his face.

"Please…" he heard the woman whisper in the silence before the sickening sound of flesh and bone meeting metal stopped her pleading.

The demons began to cheer as Chris desperately tried to block it out. He heard soft footsteps approach his cell and looked up. Wyatt looked back at him. The atheme was gone and the only sign of what he had just done was the still body that lay on the platform behind him.

"Join me," he said.

Chris could only look back at him in shock. Not sure if he could trust himself to speak without becoming hysterical. He took a couple of uncertain breaths.

"Go to hell," he snapped finally.

Wyatt laughed.

"Do you remember Excalibur?" he asked.

Excalibur was the powerful sword of the legendary King Arthur of Camelot. When Wyatt was much younger he had become heir to the sword, which their mother had hidden, stone and all, in the attic until she believed Wyatt was ready for it.

Chris nodded.

"Well don't you think the time has come?" Wyatt asked.

Chris shook his head.

"Leave it," he said.

Wyatt laughed again.

"Never in a million years," he replied and held his arms out as if he was already holding the weapon.

"Excalibur," he commanded.

A glow of golden light surrounded his hands before a mighty sword appeared in its place. It shone a glimmering silver, unlike any metal Chris had ever seen, its golden hilt encrusted with tiny jewels of many colours and shades twinkling in the firelight from the torches on the wall and the reflection from the thick blade.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" admired Wyatt, before turning to face the demons.

"Gather your troops," he ordered. "Before this day is out, the world will fall!"

The demons gave another cheer.

"All hail Lord Wyatt!" they applauded before shimmering out, Wyatt following after them.

Chris wasn't sure how long he had been trapped in the cage but he had a feeling that it was nearing ten hours now.

He had tried every means of escaping. He'd orbed, tried sending telekinetic waves at every part of the cell in case a part wasn't protected, casted a few spells and even tried forcing the door open with his own two hands. But nothing had happened except from bruising himself all over when everything backfired.

Finally Wyatt orbed back in. Excalibur was gone and he was sweating and dirty, but still a morbid smile was stretched across his face.

"Mortals can put up a good fight," he said, wiping his brow.

He flicked his finger and the cage door opened.

Chris ran out as quickly as he could and orbed out, hoping he could do so before Wyatt realised what he was doing. Unfortunately he had barely begun orbing before he reappeared again in front of his brother.

"Chris, Chris, Chris," Wyatt tutted. "Where will you go?"

"Anywhere but here," Chris replied.

"It's not safe out there," Wyatt said.

"I can take care of myself," Chris said.

Just then a group of Darklighters orbed in.

"My Lord," one of them said. "We have caught a Whitelighter who claims to have known you. We daren't kill him without your consent because he'd like to speak to you."

Chris stepped slowly backwards towards the exit whilst this was occurring and neither Wyatt nor the Darklighters seemed to have noticed.

"What is his name?" Wyatt asked.

"Kyle Brody sire," the Darklighter replied.

Chris had almost reached the exit.

"I know not such person," Wyatt replied just as Chris his around a rocky corner. "Kill him."

Chris couldn't risk going any further and blocked himself from Wyatt's sensing powers before orbing out.

He decided that going to P3 straight away would be too risky and so orbed on top of the Golden Gate Bridge.

The moment he formed there he could see the damage Wyatt had done to the city. He took hold of the large, red, riveted beam to support himself as he took in the carnage.

Many of the skyscrapers had been reduced to smouldering wrecks, the smoke billowing into the sky, blocking out the stars and choking the air with fumes that not only could Chris smell, but poured down his throat and lingered bitterly on his taste buds.

Even from this height he could hear the screaming of people and the sirens of emergency services. The terror of the city was unimaginable. Usually if magic was revealed to mortals, the Elders would send beings called Cleaners to wipe memories and clean up after magical accidents. But Chris knew that with the death of the Elders, no one could come this time.

He sat down and looked at the unusually empty road beneath him. The Golden Gate hadn't been damaged in the attack, but Chris knew that this was only the first wave. There were still demons on the streets and Wyatt would attack again soon and keep attacking until the world fell at his feet.

Chris was pretty sure that Wyatt wouldn't go looking for him yet as he had much more current, pressing matters to attend to and decided that he could risk going back to P3 without being detected.

He was relieved that the nightclub hadn't been affected by the attack yet and tried to take his mind off the day's occurrences by finishing unpacking his rucksack.

He pulled out a patterned wooden box and sat down with the object on his lap, on the sofa he slept on. He lifted up the metal latch and looked at the contents inside which consisted of many envelopes full of letters addressed to him.

He picked the most recent one from the top and unfolded the paper inside. Each of the letters was from the same person, about the same thing, time and time again. This one was dated two days after his fourteenth birthday.

'_Dear Chris, I'm sorry I couldn't make your birthday again, but as you know Elder work is very time consuming as a lot of people in the world are relying on me to help them. I hope you enjoyed your day and got lots of nice presents and cards. I'm sure your mother cooked a fantastic meal and Wyatt got you something extra nice. Look after yourself Buddy. Love Dad'_

Chris leant his head on the back of the sofa and sighed. He reached his hand down the side of one of the cushions and pulled out the blue Ludo counter he had pushed down there. He stood it on his open palm and admired the highlights from the torchlight on its curved surface. He closed his fingers around it sadly and pushed it into the box with the letters before snapping the lid shut and pushing it away.

As the months past, Chris became used to his new existence. He would make trips to the underworld every so often to vanquish demons and slowly got a feel for how Wyatt was planning his attacks and motives and also learnt of a resistance of witches who were still brave enough to fight against Wyatt. Everyone else however, slowly stopped fighting as Wyatt and his armies took control.

Chris knew that now Wyatt would have more time to concentrate his powers on finding him and he had to be more careful when going out in the open.

He realised that working on his own wasn't going to help save his brother and so also made it his priority to find out the location of the Resistance before his brother found him. Unfortunately he had no way of contacting them and he hoped that one of them would be able to find him. But the only way that could happen was if he lowered his shield so he could be sensed for. In the end he took the risk and lowered it in the middle of San Francisco and began to walk as if he was just an ordinary pedestrian going for their daily stroll. He kept a wary eye out for anyone wanting to approach him but only one tall, lone, dark figure stopped him by stepping in front of his path.

"Hello Chris," came the deep voice.

Chris froze. Wyatt had found him.


	10. Chapter 9 – The Resistance

**Author's Note: **Oh my goodness me, I'm really sorry that I made everyone wait so long. I didn't realise that I would be so busy. But I really hope that I can finish this story of by sometime in June.

Happy New Year! I hope you can remember what has been going on so far.

**Chapter 9 – The Resistance**

Chris attempted to orb out but Wyatt stopped him with a lazy flick of his wrist.

"Join me," he said simply.

Chris gave a nervous laugh.

"What, after everything you've done?"

"The difficult part's over, I agree," Wyatt said. "But I want you by my side. I want us to rule together. Or, would you rather stay here?"

He looked distastefully around the alleyway.

"You've killed hundreds, maybe thousands of innocent people," Chris said.

"Survival of the fittest."

"Murder," Chris corrected.

"Whatever you please," Wyatt replied, unconcerned.

He held out his hand to Chris who refused it.

"I'm not coming," he said.

"You're still in shock aren't you?" Wyatt said in an oily voice.

"Too right I am!" Chris exclaimed, getting angry. "I've just watched you destroy everything Mum worked to preserve. People's livings, people's homes, people's lives!"

Wyatt shook his head slowly.

"Chris, Chris, Chris," he tutted. "You still don't get it do you? But soon you will."

"Oh, I'm glad about that," Chris retorted sarcastically.

Wyatt continued, unfazed.

"I've realised my destiny. It's time you recognised yours."

"Your destiny is what you make it," Chris said.

"Wrong again little bro," Wyatt smirked. "Now come."

Chris stubbornly shook his head, his fear fading, causing Wyatt to sigh exasperatedly.

"I'm pretty sure you know what happens to those who refuse me," he said.

Chris held his arms out and stared his brother in the face, his jade green eyes piercing through Wyatt's cold, dark glare.

"Then kill me," he said, watching a flicker of uncertainty play across his brothers proud features before his face hardened again.

Wyatt swiped his hand forward, as if he were playing on imaginary game of tennis and Chris felt himself soaring backwards, before making the uncomfortable contact with the hard, brick wall behind him, knocking the air out of him.

He dropped to the cold alley floor, wheezing.

"Never ask me to do that," he heard Wyatt growl.

Chris looked up at his brother.

"Then… leave me… alone," he replied, breathing heavily, before he felt an invisible force tightly gripping his neck, pulling him to his feet.

Wyatt's hand was slightly clenched as he lifted his arm, his face unsmiling, even in mockery. Chris' feet left the floor and Wyatt left him hovering there as he clawed at his throat in his desperation to breathe. His lungs were crying out in agony for oxygen but his brother was showing no intention of letting go. Chris jerked his hand through the air in one sudden movement, causing Wyatt to fly backwards, skimming painfully across the tarmac and releasing his hold of him.

He landed on the ground once again, taking in precious gulps of air. But there was no time to recover. Wyatt was on his feet again in a flash and Chris was thrown to the wall again with a cry.

His head cracked against the surface, making large black dots dance in front of his eyes. He blinked rapidly in order to clear his vision, his head throbbing.

"You can't beat me Chris," his brother gloated, pinning Chris' arms to his sides and watching as he struggled vainly against the invisible restraints. "I'm more powerful then you are and yet you still don't realise that you are at my mercy."

Wyatt smirked.

"What would Mum say if she could see you now?"

Chris gritted his teeth in anger and pain, refusing to succumb to Wyatt's taunting.

"What a foolish son you are; no wonder Dad didn't love you."

His brother's face was expressionless except for the small twisted delight he received in tormenting Chris, who was desperately trying not to show how hurt and angry he was feeling.

"You see, the Halliwell's don't settle for anything but the best," Wyatt continued, knowing all too well the amount of rage bubbling inside his brother. "So you can imagine their disappointment when they got you."

This was too much for Chris, and with a disgruntled roar, he ripped his arms from their unseen chains and flung them forward with all his might, catapulting a mesmerised Wyatt a good fifteen metres through the air.

They both came crashing to the floor at the same time, but Chris was first to his feet, fuelled by fury and advanced on Wyatt.

"Go back to the underworld with your stinking followers," he snarled. "And never come here again, do you hear me?"

Wyatt smiled, almost victoriously, blocking Chris' next telekinetic attack.

"For now," he said, and with a swirl of ash like embers he orbed out.

Chris sat on the cold floor heavily and leant his pounding head against the wall, exhausted. He reached a shaking hand up to caress it, but was met with the warm, sticky sensation of blood dribbling through his fingers. He groaned in frustration. He had to be more careful next time he let down his shield.

He knew his brother would be back. He had been surprised that he had left without him this time. Maybe Chris was slightly more powerful than Wyatt had first thought After all, although he wasn't twice blessed or part of any fantastic prophesy, he was still the son of a Charmed One. That gave Chris a small satisfaction. He wasn't a nobody.

Suddenly, without warning, a small girl ran out of the shadows towards him. Her hair was a dirty blonde, held back from her face with a cotton blue Alice band, her grey eyes wide with admiration. She couldn't have been more that seven years old.

"You lived!" she squeaked excitedly, dropping beside him in awe. "You crossed the Dark Lord and lived!"

"Who are you?" Chris asked, not meaning to be rude but sounding rather blunt.

"My name's Rebecca," the girl replied.

Chris held out his hand and she took it warmly.

"Nice to meet you Rebecca," he said.

"What's yours?"

"Chris," Chris replied, getting slowly to his feet. "And I really should be going."

"But you're hurt," Rebecca put in and Chris became aware of the blood dripping down his back.

"It's nothing," he said. "Head wounds always look worse than they really are."

"My friend is a Whitelighter, she can heal you," Rebecca told him.

"Really I'm fine," Chris persuaded her. "But you are very fortunate to know one, I don't believe there are many left now."

Rebecca shook her head sadly.

"No there's not," she said. "Most of them are with us now and…"

She abruptly snapped her mouth closed.

"The Resistance?" Chris asked, his eyes widening.

Rebecca groaned and he realised that she shouldn't have told him about it.

"Don't worry, I'm not evil," he promised her.

"He's going to be so angry with me," she said cursing herself.

"Who? Your leader?" Chris guessed.

"Yes," Rebecca replied. "He told me never to leave the headquarters in case I blew the whole thing and look what I went and did."

She started to cry, realising that she had let another thing slip.

"Can you take me there?" Chris asked softly.

"No," the girl cried hysterically. "Don't speak to me."

"Listen," Chris said taking her arms and holding her in front of him. "I'm not bad. I'm not going to hurt you or destroy the Resistance. I want to help."

"You could be tricking me," she said, although calming down slightly. "I was taught that no one can be trusted."

"And you were taught correctly," Chris agreed. "In this world it takes a lot to gains someone's trust, but you trust your friends in the Resistance don't you?"

Rebecca nodded timidly.

"I understand if you can't trust me, because I know that if I were you I wouldn't trust me and to expect trust of a person who is protecting the only hope of saving our world - which I could easily destroy if I were one of them – is a massive thing to want, but I'm begging you. If you don't help me I'm on my own, in my own futile war against them. A war I don't want to lose, but will because I don't have any support. Please!"

He looked deep into her eyes to prove his desperation.

She gazed uncomfortably back, completely troubled and confused with her situation. Chris knew it was a difficult decision for her to make and he didn't know what he would do if he were in her shoes.

In the end she didn't have to choose anything as there was suddenly a tinkling sound and a girl orbed in in a flourish of lights. She was about the same age as Chris but had long, pale, blonde hair which cascaded down her back, her blue eyes full of worry.

Rebecca pulled away from Chris and ran to her. The girl hugged her tightly.

"Where were you?" she asked in a high twinkling voice, much like the sound of her orbs. "We've been so worried."

"I went for a walk," Rebecca replied innocently. "And I saw the Dark Lord attack this boy."

Chris grinned sheepishly as the Whitelighter looked up at him in horror.

"God, are you okay?" she asked, running over to him, her caring instincts kicking in before any warning bells rang.

"I'm fine," Chris replied automatically.

She studied him carefully with her eyes.

"You call this fine?" she asked, prodding him sharply in the back of his head where it was still bleeding.

"Ow!" he cried out indignantly.

"Precisely," she replied, and he felt the warm, golden healing glow emit from her hands.

"Better?" she asked, retrieving her hands.

Chris probed the back of his head gingerly, the cut and throbbing completely gone.

"Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome," she replied. "Would you like to explain to us why the Dark Lord is after you?"

Chris knew that if he wanted her to trust him he would have to tell her the truth.

"He wanted me to join him, to rule by his side," he said.

"By his side?!" she asked incredulously. "Like an equal? Why? Are you powerful?"

"Not out of the ordinary, no," Chris said. "He's my brother."

The girls' mouths dropped open in astonishment. The Whitelighter regained her composure quickly, whilst Rebecca still goggled at him.

"I see," she said quietly. "You didn't want to join him?"

"Of course not," Chris replied, slightly annoyed. "Big deal, he's my brother. Does that mean I have to follow him?"

"No," the Whitelighter said, obviously not wanting to offend him. "I just didn't realise the Dark Lord had a brother."

"His name is Wyatt," Chris corrected her, hating to hear him being referred to as a lord of evil. "And he wasn't always like this."

"The Resistance is trying to stop him," Rebecca said.

"I know," Chris replied.

"And you still want to help?" she continued.

"Yes," said Chris, knowing where this was going.

"You would kill your own brother?" the Whitelighter asked softly.

"No, I'm going to save him," Chris replied stubbornly.

There was a long pause after this and Chris pondered whether to orb out. He decided that he could bear the uncomfort for a while for a lot was at stake. Getting into the Resistance was vital, otherwise he would be on his own and Wyatt would come back for him.

"What's your name," the Whitelighter finally asked.

"Chris," Chris replied.

"I'm Andrea," she said, taking Rebecca's hand then reaching out for Chris'. "Come, I shall take you to Danny our leader."

Chris accepted her hand and she quickly orbed them out.

They reappeared in a part of San Francisco that Chris had never been to before.

"You can't orb inside the Resistance," she explained quietly. "It's protected."

They were facing the dark, grubby walls of a small building which was almost identical to the others around it. Andrea whispered an incantation so quietly that Chris couldn't make out a word she was saying. She then walked forwards, still gripping his hand tightly, leading him right through the wall and into the Resistance within.

It wasn't how he had expected it to be at all. They were in a large, well lit room despite the fact that there were no light bulbs or windows to be seen. The floor was a simple slab of concrete and the walls the brick they had been built with. Various doorless passageways led off from this room and Chris was curious to know where they led to. A couple of witches emerged from them; all seemed to know exactly what they were doing and were engrossed in their work. About five had congregated in the corner of the room, around small, coal black cauldrons atop rickety tables. Whizzes and bangs were emitting from the tops in clouds of billowing smoke. The witches carefully squeezed the colourful potions into tiny glass bottles with pipettes.

"Andrea, you found her," came the voice of a twenty or so year old man as he strode rather importantly towards them.

He was dressed casually in jeans and a long t-shirt but held himself as if he were dressed in the golden robes of an Elder. His mousy hair was closely cut and curled tightly to his head. His grey eyes held concern for the small girl's wellbeing but quickly vanished when he noticed Chris.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"That's Chris," chirped Rebecca.

The man glared angrily at her.

"I'll deal with you later," he growled and she shrank back behind Andrea.

The man looked expectantly at the Whitelighter.

"Why did you bring him here?" he asked her.

"He can help us," she said, unfazed by the rude scowl he was giving her.

"And exactly how can he help us?" he insisted.

"Because Rebecca saw him face the Dark Lord and live."

The man's eyes widened momentarily and he turned to Chris again.

"Is this true?"

"Yes," Chris replied simply, not liking the man's attitude at all.

"Why did you meet the Dark Lord in the first place?"

Chris was tempted no to reply, but did so anyway.

"He wanted me to join him," he said dryly. "What else?"

"And he didn't try and kill you?" the man asked.

"I don't think he has it in him to kill me," Chris replied blandly.

The man shifted his puzzled stare onto Andrea, who had swiftly begun to explain what Chris meant.

"He knows a lot about the Dark Lord that we would probably never find out even working for him Danny," she said. "He's his brother."

The Resistance leaders face drained of all colour, before contorting into livid horror.

"What the hell were you thinking bringing him here you fool!" he shouted furiously.

Chris braced himself for an attack which came a split second later. Danny conjured a large, heavy, metal pole and swung it at him. But Chris was ready and ducked, flicking his hands as he did, sending the conjuror flying.

He landed heavily on his back, the pole clattering noisily beside him. The room fell silent, the witches watching their leader groan as he got to his feet. He picked up his pole, which disappeared in a silvery glow. Chris glared at him.

"He's not a threat," Andrea said calmly. "I trust him."

"You've only known him for five minutes Andrea," Danny told her. "And you believe that you can bring the Dark Lord's brother here? It's suicide!

"He can help us," Andrea repeated.

"How? By blowing us up?" Danny snorted, flinging his arms into the air as if he had just been hit by an energy ball. "The Dark Lord may be a powerful, ruthless, killing machine, but he's damn well clever. It's a trap damn it and you fell for it!"

"But his orbs are blue," Rebecca squeaked, daring herself to speak.

"You can orb?" Danny asked Chris, who nodded. "You're a Whitelighter?"

"No," said Chris stiffly. "I'm half Whitelighter, half witch."

"And your brother is too?" he asked quietly, calming down immensely.

"He is," replied Chris.

Danny smiled slightly.

"Do you know all his powers?" he asked.

"If you want me to help you, you'll have to help me," Chris answered.

"Uh huh," Danny raised his eyebrows. "I knew that was coming. What do you need from us?"

"Your cooperation," said Chris firmly. "The Resistance is the only chance I have of saving my brother."

"Which in truth means you need our cooperation so you can defeat your brother and take over what he started," Danny said.

"That's a lie!" shouted Chris, but Danny ignored him.

"The Resistance is small and weak against the Dark Lord, and despite how hard we try to stop him, we know that nine times out of ten we will fail. You would be better off joining him and betraying his trust then joining us when we don't even want to know you."

"So what are you hoping to get out of this then?" Chris enquired, his voice wavering with fury.

"I want the world I was born into back," Danny replied. "The world without meaningless killings and fear and destruction. The world my family spent their lives trying to create. To make the future a better place to live in. I want that world!"

"Don't we all," Chris murmured quietly.

"Well guess who ruined that fantasy?" Danny sneered.

"He wasn't always evil," Chris said defensively. "Something happened. He changed. Now all he cares about is power."

"Do you think we can change him back?" Andrea asked softly.

"We have to," replied Chris, not taking his eyes off the Resistance leader. "Because you know what will happen if we don't."

Andrea looked in Danny's direction.

"Come on Danny," she said. "Give him a chance."

Chris watched him ponder the idea thoughtfully.

"You can join," he said at length. "You can take the oath and help us and protect us with your life. But remember, I'll be watching you very carefully and I also forbid you to stay here at night. The Dark Lord will be looking for you and that puts our organisation in jeopardy, because in finding you he also finds us. Do you understand?"

"Yes," answered Chris.

Danny looked at Rebecca who was still slightly hidden behind Andrea.

"Rebecca," he said. "Go straight to your room. I expect you to be there when I come."

Without another word, the girl ran off down one of the passageways obediently.

"Andrea and Chris follow me," he ordered curtly.

Chris followed him down a different tunnel which sloped steeply down wards under the ground. They walked briskly along it, ignoring all the turnings and doors until they came to the end of the passageway and to a small, sturdy, wooden door. Danny muttered a spell under his breath, clearly not wanting Chris to know what it was, and with a click the door swung open.

It was freezing inside the tiny store room that lay beyond the enchanted door and contained only two things. A battered wooden lectern and a book lying on top. For a second Chris thought the Resistance had been able to steal the Book of Shadows off of Wyatt and stored it here, but looking closer he saw the book was, although old and faded, blue and much thinner.

"This is the heart and life of the Resistance," Danny explained, touching the cover lovingly. "Without it we are neither protected nor able to function."

He glanced at Chris with a look of supreme aversion.

"Take this to your brother," he said. "And he wins. It's as simple as that. Put your hand on the cover."

Chris silently did as he was told, a warm sensation ran up his arm as he made contact with it.

"Repeat after me," Danny continued. "I promise to serve the Resistance whole heartedly and protect it with my life."

"I promise to serve the Resistance whole heartedly and protect it with my life," Chris echoed.

"I promise to stick with it through thick and thin, until death or victory."

Chris repeated the statement.

"And I accept the consequences of breaking the oath."

"And I accept the consequences of breaking the oath," said Chris and watched as the book glowed brightly under his palm, causing it tingle.

"Welcome to the Resistance," Danny said dryly and Chris removed his hand, flexing his fingers cautiously.

"What are the consequences?" he asked, already a horrible picture forming in his mind.

"We're in a war," said Danny. "And in a war you can't afford to make mistakes. All traitors are dealt with on pain of death."

He ushered Chris and the Whitelighter out of the room and slammed the door securely behind them.

"Come," he said. "Tonight we are planning a demon vanquish, and it's time we let the Dark Lord know that we have found his weakness." He grinned slowly to himself. "Perhaps this war isn't so hopeless after all."


	11. Chapter 10 – The Cry of the Phoenix

**Authors Note: **Hey faithful readers, sorry about another long wait. But I have a nice long chapter for you today. I hope you enjoy it.

**Chapter 10 – The Cry of the Phoenix**

Four years past slowly by and Chris was sure that they were the hardest four in his life. He worked fervently for the Resistance, spending both day and night writing spells and making vanquishing potions for the unending attacks on the demons that terrorised the world. He never missed a vanquish, unless he was held back by Danny who kept his promised constant eye on him despite his faithfulness.

At first everyone had been very wary of him, which had been provoked by their leader's dislike of the boy, but this didn't last. Chris' devotion proved to them that he was against what Wyatt was doing. He was always willing to risk his own skin to save innocents and protect the Resistance from exposure and he became fondly known for continuously arguing with their leader. They knew the two of them weren't the best of friends and could constantly be heard at each others throats. Usually it was Andrea who split them up, or another brave Whitelighter who didn't mind diving into the war zone.

After their first meeting, Danny and Chris never used force against each other, but the words that flew from their mouths with such vigour was enough to make anyone in the same room as them to exit quite rapidly.

Chris could never see why Danny had been voted for leader, as the majority of the Resistance obeyed him out of fear rather then willingness, and his strategies never got them anywhere. Chris constantly had new ideas which he put forward at meetings, but Danny nearly always chose to stick with his own simply out of spite and arrogance. The leader was a powerful witch, there was no denying that, but Chris feared that this was all his leadership was built on and it was weakening the Resistance.

There were more pressing matters then this however, and Chris still hadn't figured out how to stop his brother's regime. He was too powerful, and everything was working in his favour. He had lost count of the number of times they had tried to infiltrate his headquarters and failed, or uncover plans which had no relevance whatsoever, or had been a trap. Many members of the Resistance had been killed in these useless attempts and Chris knew many more would.

The Resistance was his new family. He slowly got to know each by name and power, which helped him make rapid decisions in times of desperation. He had taken his fair share of energy balls and Darklighter arrows, and also saved many from similar fates. He grieved silently when members of the Resistance were killed; when a mission failed; when everything seemed so hopeless, but never shed a tear. It happened too often now.

When he was nineteen Chris became the new leader of the Resistance. Danny gave up his position after the Resistance complained about his lack of motivation to get his own hands dirty and help, but was angry when Chris was chosen to replace him.

Although very pleased to be recognised and picked, Chris wasn't so impressed with the extra responsibility which had been given to him, but handled it as best he could. Wyatt was getting stronger, and successful missions were becoming rarer and rarer. The Resistance was becoming less of a resistance and more of a hideout for witches. Wyatt didn't like witches because witches had power, and power could be used against him. All witches outside the walls of the Resistance were being hunted down and killed, and many Resistance witches came up to Chris begging him to stay inside the Resistance at night instead of going back to P3. But Chris refused. His cloaking power was improving, but Wyatt was still after him, and it would only be a matter of time before he found him. Chris didn't want to but the Resistance in any danger. It was their last hope to change this dark world and its whereabouts had to remain secret. Then a new problem arose.

"Chris!" a young witch exclaimed running towards him, a roll of parchment gripped tightly in his hand. "The rumours are true, these plans are genuine and a few of them are already on the streets!"

Andrea, who had been following closely, reached them now.

"The probes," she panted breathlessly, her sea blue eyes wide with fear. "My goodness Chris, it's bad."

Chris took the plans from the witch and unrolled them carefully to look at the fish like machines drawn inside. Wyatt had mixed magic and technology together and created these probes. At first it had been a rumour which he himself had heard whilst working undercover in the underworld amongst demons, but the Simon had found these plans and the threat appeared real.

The probes were built speed, completely aerodynamically designed, with a tail which propelled through the air almost silently.

"On the way back we came across one," Simon said, leaning over the plans as well. "You see this thing at the front?" He pointed to the blunt nose of the probe. "It's able to scan for particular people it has been programmed to detect."

"Like witches?" Chris interrupted.

"Or you," Andrea added.

"It can transmit all information it receives directly back to Wyatt's headquarters instantly after receiving it. Or, if it had been programmed to, destroy the discovered object."

Chris raised his head sharply.

"Destroy?" he asked.

Simon and Andrea nodded simultaneously.

"With a laser," said Simon.

Chris closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

"How many?" he asked.

"He's converted a huge part of the underworld into a probe factory," said Simon. "They're creating new ones all the time."

Chris cursed himself.

"He's going to put them everywhere," he said, his blood running cold at the thought. "On every single corner or every single street. We'll be sitting ducks. One false move from anyone and he'll find us."

"So what'll we do?" Andrea asked quietly.

"Nothing," said Simon dolefully. "We can't."

Chris shook his head as slowly an idea formed in his brain.

"There's one thing we can do," he said. "The factory has to have a generator, doesn't it? Or a place where the power to run it is created. If we can destroy that, then the whole factory will shut down. Or if the concentration of power is high enough, it'll blow sky high!"

He flung an arm excitedly into the air for effect, but the other two looked at him doubtfully.

"Do you know how well guarded that place will be?" Simon said.

"Well if we get a blueprint of the factory maybe it'll be possible."

"Yes, and abracadabra a blueprint falls at out feet," commented Simon sarcastically. "Get real Chris. There's no way he'll leave something like that lying around. We only find what he wants us to find remember?"

"Well there has to be one in existence," argued Chris. "And Wyatt will most likely have it on his person."

Simon gave a nervous laugh.

"There goes that idea then."

Again Chris shook his head.

"He wants me alive doesn't he?" he said pointedly.

"Chris," Andrea warned him.

"No," he replied, shaking her off. "Hundreds of people's lives rely on the Resistance. And without it the world is doomed. Nothing else will stand in his way. We can't let it be destroyed. If I let him find me, I can find the blueprint and take a copy of it without him even realising what I've done."

"But if he does," said Simon. "He'll know the Resistance's next move."

"Well that's why I must not fail," replied Chris. "I'll go back to P3 now and plan it. I'll fill you in tomorrow."

Andrea gripped his hand tightly. Because she was a Whitelighter she still had the body of a sixteen year old, but her mind was well into her thirties.

"Watch out for probes," she said.

Chris gave her a wonky smile.

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll be fine."

And with that, he left them, walking straight through the portal in the wall into the cold, dark street outside. He shrunk back into the shadows in case a probe was anywhere nearby. As if on queue, a silvery black probe sailed towards him and he waved his hand, causing it to change direction and fly off down the road opposite, leaving Chris unseen. He quickly scanned his surroundings for anymore, but none showed up and he orbed safely away from the Resistance and back to P3.

A couple of years ago he had cast a spell on the building, shielding it from allowing anybody to orb or shimmer in and from demons and Darklighters after one had surprised him one night and showered him with energy balls. Fortunately he had been able to get to a Whitelighter in time, but he wasn't counting on being so lucky next time and bewitched the building.

He reached out to open the side door when a scream made him turn around. He ran silently in the direction he had heard it come from and came across an all too familiar sight. A demon was towering over a young woman, an energy ball in its clawed palm.

"Why scream?" it growled. "Not so brave anymore now are we?"

Chris could see her face in the eerie blue light cast out from the energy ball, it was sweating and her eyes were wide with fear, reflecting the energy ball's glow which was metres from them.

"Go to hell!" she snarled.

"Oh you will," replied the demon. "After all, betraying the Dark Lord is nothing to be proud of."

The woman set her jaw firmly in a way that seemed vaguely familiar to Chris.

"Why didn't his _Lordship_ kill me himself?" she asked.

"It seems that scum like you aren't worth that privilege," was the reply.

Instantly, Chris threw his arm backwards and the demon was launched into the air. As it flew, the demon tried desperately to extinguish the energy ball still blazing in it's hand, but was unable to in time and as it came crashing to the ground the ball of energy descended on its creator, vanquishing it at once.

"Nicely done," the woman marvelled.

"Thank you," Chris replied, studying her closely as she approached him.

She was dressed in a tight leather suit which was similar to most demon attire. Kohl shaded her deep brown eyes and she had chestnut coloured hair, which hung straight and loose down her back. He had the strange feeling that he had seen her before.

"Are you a demon?" he asked her.

She gave a half-hearted laugh.

"No," she replied. "I'm a witch."

"And you betrayed Wyatt," he said, remembering what he had heard.

The witch smiled.

"I did," she said, a touch of pride in her voice. "But he's going to come after me again."

"Why did you betray him," Chris asked warily.

"For the same reason you won't join him in the first place," she replied. "He's beyond cruel and I didn't want to be part of it anymore."

Chris narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know who I am?"

"Oh please Chris," the girl snorted. "Everyone in the underworld knows who you are: The Dark Lord's obstinate little brother. Besides, we've met before."

Chris raised his eyebrows.

"We have?" he asked, sounding more surprised then he actually was.

The witch pulled up the left sleeve of her leather jacket and showed him a delicate, red, bird shaped birthmark on her wrist. The Phoenix assassin.

"Not such a little boy now are you?" she said. "How old are you?"

"Twenty," replied Chris, who now at six foot was forced to look down on the assassin.

She smiled.

"You still need to cut your hair."

"Excuse me," Chris exclaimed indignantly, fingering the mop on his head self-consciously. "But for your information I haven't had the time."

A bitter wind blew past them just then, bringing them back to reality.

"Come on," Chris said, reaching for her hand, before thinking better of it and beckoning with it instead. "We've got to get you out of here. Wyatt will be looking for you once he realises you've escaped."

The assassin checked worriedly around her.

"Okay," she said. "But where do I go?"

Instantly the Resistance sprung to mind, but Chris shook the thought away. There was no way he was taking her there. This could all be a set up in order to find out the location of the Resistance, and he couldn't take that chance. But what if she was really in danger and she was the innocent he had to save this time? He couldn't just leave her.

"Follow me," he said, and headed towards P3.

The assassin followed swiftly behind him, so quietly that Chris had to look round a couple of times to assure himself she was still there.

"There's a shield around this building," Chris said when they reached the side door of P3. "It repels demons and people such as yourself. You'll have to hold my hand in order to get in."

He pushed down the handle and pulled the door open. The assassin took his hand without a word and he led them both safely inside, before switching on a torch and telekinetically swinging the door shut.

"You live here?" the witch asked, sounding slightly disgusted.

"Yep," replied Chris fondly.

She screwed her nose up.

"Jeez, and I thought demons had bad taste."

Chris led her into the decaying office, which she surveyed with the same critical expression. He ignored her as he lifted two thick, cleanish blankets from a shelf.

"What's your name again?" he asked her, exiting the office and entering the main part of the club again..

"Bianca," she replied, following him.

Chris dumped the blankets on the most decent looking sofa he could find, which emitted a cloud of dust.

"Sorry about the dust," he said sheepishly, coughing slightly.

"No problem," she replied, despite looking rather reproachful.

"I take it you have a much nicer place in the underworld," Chris said.

Bianca shook her head.

"No," she said. "I don't live in the underworld. I live in my mother's old house, but it's slightly nicer then here. Haven't you heard of the term housekeeping?"

"I haven't had the time," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, the spiders and cockroaches like it better like this."

Chris received his anticipated answer as Bianca pulled a face.

"You're disgusting," she grimaced.

"You don't like, go back home," he replied, grinning.

Bianca sat on the sofa ambiguously and began to unfold a blanket.

"Goodnight," she said finally, hinting for Chris to leave, which he agreed to graciously.

"Goodnight," he replied, heading towards the office once more.

For some reason he felt embarrassed that he couldn't offer Bianca a nicer place to stay. Over the years he had become used to the dust and the creatures that roamed the old club and ignored them. He had even grown fond of the roaches that scuttled meaningfully across the ash grey floor, their metallic armour chinking as they marched or when they roared like helicopters through the air on their whirring wings. In fact it was the spiders who were the annoying ones. Many a time he would wake up to a large hairy eight legged creature, tickling his face as it ran across it. Chris prayed that he didn't sleep with his mouth open, or chances were, he had swallowed quite a few.

He slowly lowered himself onto his own sofa, which creaked threateningly underneath him. He drew his knees up to his chin, which he rested on top of them, deep in thought. What was he going to do with Bianca? Until he proved her innocent of part of a set up, he couldn't take her to, or even mention, the Resistance. But he couldn't keep her locked up in P3 for the rest of her life either. She was an assassin, and whether she was telling the truth or lying, she couldn't be trusted. Assassins didn't commit themselves to anybody but themselves. If somebody offered them a high enough price, they would betray even their closest friends. But if she had betrayed Wyatt he owed her protection.

He laid down on pulled the crumpled blanket by his feet over him. Tomorrow he would tell the Resistance about her.

Suddenly he shot up straight. The Resistance! He had completely forgotten about the plan he was supposed to make for them.

He rapidly got up and sat down at the cobwebby desk just opposite. He blew across the table top, sending the thousands of tiny particles floating off the other end. He pulled a notebook out of a drawer, snatched up a pen and poised it over the paper, waiting for inspiration to flow out of it.

There was no knowing what his brother would do to him if he were to go face to face with him. It had been four years since he had last seen him, and there was the possibility his feelings for him had changed; but he could see no other way the Resistance would get the blueprint of the probe factory without direct confrontation. Chris had the benefit of having grown up with Wyatt. He knew how he operated, from the many demon vanquishes he had been part of with him. Anything he thought of great value to him he would look after himself. Not even his most trusted guards would be given that job. Certainly the blueprint would fall into that category. This is where a problem arose. If Wyatt didn't want somebody to find something, chances were they'd never find it. Wyatt could have hidden it anywhere. His person included.

Chris yawned widely and dropped his pen with a clatter to the wooden table. He leant forward to rest his forehead on his palms, entwining his fingers in his dark overgrown hair. Why did life have to be so darn tough? He folded his arms and buried his face in them feeling the burning warmth from the torch radiating on his bowed head. The club got very cold at night because he never turned the heating on. He couldn't afford the cost to start with, and besides, no one could know he was living there. Although he had the protective shield around the building, if Wyatt found out where he was it wouldn't hold him for long. The warm torchlight was comforting therefore, and Chris soon found himself drifting off to sleep.

He awoke with a start, his neck aching from the prolonged uncomfortable position. He gazed blearily at his watch, which read six thirty-four and groaned. He had been sleeping for hours.

He looked at the still blank piece of paper before him, his head aching from the torch that was still shining brightly where he had left it. Some time ago he had jinxed the batteries in order to stop them from running out because of his windowless environment. But was regretting leaving it beaming on his head all night.

He stood up and stretched, before heading to the bathroom to get a drink of water, but found the door locked fast. For a split second panic flashed through his body, until he remembered his late night encounter with Bianca. He knocked gently on the door.

"Bianca, are you in there?" he asked.

"Yes," came the reply. "I've almost finished."

Chris stepped quickly backwards as she unlocked and opened the door. She came out drying her hair on a small towel and smiled in a greeting.

"Don't worry," she said. "I got the towel out of the cupboard over there. I didn't want to wake you."

"Er," replied Chris, rubbing his head tenderly. "Yeah, that's fine. Did you sleep well?"

"Well, I'm sure your sofa wanted to swallow me whole, but apart from that, yes, I guess so," she answered.

Chris entered the bathroom and turned on the tap at the sink. He dipped his head underneath it and lapped up the pure, refreshing liquid that gushed out of it thankfully. Upon finishing, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Sorry," he apologised to Bianca. "I don't have any cups."

Bianca merely shrugged her shoulders.

"Are you hungry?" he continued.

Bianca nodded eagerly.

"You bet I am," she replied, hanging her towel on a hook carefully.

Chris went to the cupboard in the office and took out two apples. He threw one across to Bianca, which she caught deftly in one hand.

"I'm sorry I can't offer you anything more," he said. "I'm running a bit low on supplies."

"Can you stop apologising?" Bianca asked abruptly. "A little dust never killed anyone, least of all me. So would it be at all possible to have a normal conversation?"

"Yes," replied Chris. "Of course, sorry."

Bianca glared at him and sunk her teeth into the slightly withered apple with a crunch.

Chris let out a short sharp breath indignantly. Surprised at her sudden change in mood.

"Listen," he said. "For someone who saved your butt back there, you're showing anything but gratitude."

"Oh, so the damsel in distress falls into her hero's arms, and showers him with her gratefulness and praise. Which being the self conceited, stuck up brat that he is, laps it up like a demon to blood!" Bianca yelled. "If you think that the most successful assassin in the world is going to do that due to one stupid mistake, you've got another thing coming!"

"Two stupid mistakes?" corrected Chris. "If I remember correctly, in our last meeting, my fourteen year old self was able to trap the almighty assassin in a crystal cage."

"That wasn't a mistake," Bianca growled. "The only reason the Dark Lord and I met in the first place was because I had been hired to kill him. Of course I hadn't been completely prepared and ended up having to work for him instead."

Chris laughed, amused by this.

"How humiliating," he said, swiftly receiving another glare.

"You know Chris," she said. "One of the reasons why I am the best, is because I never leave a job unfinished. I knew he had a brother, and his mother was one of the Charmed Ones, and I wanted to study him and his life. Find out his weak points, use them against him, and ultimately cause his destruction. Little did I know he would turn out like this."

Chris tilted his head in mock realisation.

"Oh," he said. "And you need my help to complete your very overdue task. Well I'm sorry, but I'm not like you. I'm not going to kill my brother. I'm going to turn him back to the good he was brought up with."

Now it was Bianca's turn to laugh.

"And how are you going to do that?" she asked. "He's far from the good little witch you want him to be."

"Because it's not his destiny!" Chris shouted, almost anxious for her to see his way. "He was the prophesised twice blessed, first male child in the Warren line for hundreds of years. He was supposed to be the saviour. The one who would change the world for the better. Eradicate evil and save us all."

Bianca shook her head.

"You wish the impossible," she said. "Believe me. I've worked for people like him before. They don't change overnight, just because someone tells them to. Besides, hiding here isn't going to help."

"I'm working on it," Chris replied stiffly, picking up his coat which was draped on the back of the sofa and putting it on. "I'm going out for a while. I shouldn't be more than a few hours, but I wouldn't recommend trying to get out while I'm gone, because the shield won't let you back in again, and neither will I. I have a few magazines and newspapers on my desk which you can read if you want. They're a bit dated, but it'll give you something to do."

"But I was hoping to get some clothes from home," said Bianca. "I find it rather tiring wearing this all the time."

Chris looked at the tight leather suit she was wearing. To be fair, he did think it looked rather uncomfortable to wear, but instead he raised his eyebrows.

"When Wyatt is looking for you?" he asked suspiciously. "Being an assassin I thought you would know better then that."

"Well I suppose I should stay here then," said Bianca.

"I think so too," agreed Chris. "What's the address? I'll stop off there on the way back."

"But you'll be in danger then," she said, pausing briefly before adding. "Or do you want to play hero again?"

Chris shrugged his shoulders sighing.

"Well I won't go then," he said, heading towards the door and opening it. "And if you do want to kill me, now is a perfect time to plan something horrific. After all, I'm Wyatt's weakness aren't I?"

He walked out and closed the door behind him. He blinked in the bright morning sunlight and took a large bite of his apple, before orbing to the Resistance.

"What are you going to do about her?" Andrea asked, after Chris had told her and Simon about Bianca.

"Keep her in P3 until I can find out what she's all about. She's hiding something that's for sure. She's clearly a great assassin or Wyatt wouldn't have her working for him, but she's not acting like one. I mean, she does sometimes, but her personality keeps changing.

"What do you mean?" asked Simon.

"Well sometimes she's really polite, the next, slightly insulting, then she's angry at me for underestimating her," Chris said.

"Do you think she's still working for Wyatt?" Andrea asked.

"I don't know what to think," admitted Chris. "But one thing's certain. I can't take her here."

"Defiantly not," agreed Simon.

"Do you know anyone here who has had experience with Phoenixes before?" Chris asked.

Andrea and Simon shook their heads.

"No, but I'm sure someone has," said Simon.

"Well tell everyone to keep their ears peeled for any mention of Bianca during underworld trips," Chris told them. "Now, what are we going to do about these probes?"

"It's suicide to take a copy of the blueprint right under the Dark… Wyatt's nose," said Simon.

"Even more so if we attack the factory without them," replied Chris. "Maybe I should just go to Wyatt right now and find out?"

"Chris!" exclaimed Andrea. "You've lost you're mind! He'll kill you on the spot."

"Will he?" Chris queried.

"Just because you're the only member of the Resistance to survive meeting him face to face, doesn't mean he won't kill you this time," said Andrea sternly.

"But I'm his brother," explained Chris.

"No," replied Andrea. "You're the leader of the Resistance, which is the one thing that has stopped him from becoming unstoppable. He's not the person you knew anymore Chris, when are you going to realise that? He'll kill you."

Chris snorted in annoyance.

"So what are we going to do about the probes?" he asked again.

"I don't know," replied Andrea honestly. "Maybe we should just leave them. We all have powers to deflect them if we should spot one."

"And if one spots us?" asked Chris. "And we don't realise? It'll mean the end of the Resistance."

"We'll think of something," Simon reassured him. "Everyone's aware of the danger, and have been instructed only to leave the building when on missions, and something tells me there won't be many missions anyway."

"That's because we're losing," said Chris. "He's beating us before we've even started."

"We have started Chris," said Andrea. "Think of how many people we've saved. How much of Wyatt's regime we've destroyed. Was that all nothing?"

"We're no closer to stopping him then we were before," said Chris. "Are we just going to wait until one day he realises what he's doing is wrong and stop?"

"Chris, if you're going to lead us, you better start thinking positive," Andrea stated. "We'll find a way. It's just a matter of time."

"Yeah," said Simon. "Something which we no longer have."

"Oh shush," said Andrea. "You're not helping."

"Right," Chris concluded. "I better get going."

"Where?" Andrea demanded, obviously worried that he was going to confront Wyatt.

"Shopping," replied Chris, with a wide, unnatural smile, knowing he would leave the Whitelighter very confused.

The mall was nothing as grand as it used to be. Although it had been years since Wyatt's demons had attacked, only a few shops had reopened, the rest falling prey to vandals and thieves.

Chris was rather impressed at how everyone had picked up their lives again. Apart from the Resistance nobody crossed Wyatt and mortals learned to live under his tyrannical rule. Despite being afraid and wonder if today may be their last, they knew Wyatt wasn't really bothered about them and betraying a witch usually spared them from an untimely demise. Because of this, witches weren't faring too well; it was clear Wyatt didn't want anyone apposing him. Chris didn't know any witches other than the ones hiding in the Resistance. He hoped if there were anymore out there, that they were well hidden.

He disappeared into a shop, swiftly dodging a probe which was scanning for witches. He headed to the ladies section feeling rather ridiculous and tried to find something that Bianca wouldn't disapprove of. He studied the various items of clothing thoughtfully whilst keeping a trained eye out for anymore probes. Everything was so short. The majority of the tops were designed to show midriffs and the skirts just looked like oversized belts. He wasn't sure if he could stand seeing Bianca wearing something like that. They looked even more uncomfortable than the suit she already wore and although he hated to admit it to himself, he knew he would find anything so tiny rather distracting and defiantly not very practical.

Eventually he bought an ordinary pair of jeans and two blouses. He had veered sharply away from anything black, and purposely not got any kohl. As he had seen this morning, when she had exited the bathroom clear of the vile dye, she had appeared more human, prettier and younger.

He walked briskly into the changing rooms, which to his luck were empty. He stepped into a cubicle and closed the door, before orbing back to P3.

Upon arriving, he checked there were no probes lurking about, before opening the backdoor, his mouth dropping open as he took in the sight before him.

Bianca was dressed in one of his old ripped t-shirts and a tatty pair of his jeans. She had a broom in her hands and was busy sweeping the blanket of dust that covered the floor, into a corner of the room. She stopped as Chris came in and rested her chin on the long wooden broom handle.

"Hello," she said.

Chris looked up at the ceiling, a network of metal poles where old cobwebby disco lights hung. Bianca had tied three torches to them, which cast a dim light around the room; almost as good as real lamps.

"Hello," he replied.

Bianca just looked at him expectantly, as if she knew he was dying to add something.

"What are you doing?" he asked, after a while.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"I would have thought it was obvious," she replied. "I'm cleaning your home. You might be able to live in a tip, but I can't."

Chris nodded slowly.

"And," she added. "I'm sorry for what I said to you earlier. You're a good person. I don't know many people who would save an assassin and offer her a place to stay afterwards."

Chris smiled.

"Thank you," he said and walked towards her. "Gee," he dropped to his knees and ran his finger across the floor. "This is amazing!"

Bianca prodded him with the broom handle.

"Ow," Chris cried out indignantly. "I just paid you a complement!"

Bianca ignored him and hooked the shopping bag onto the handle and slid it down the wood towards her.

"What do you have in here?" she asked, peering inside the bag curiously.

"Some clothes for you," answered Chris, standing up. "So you don't have to wear any of my clothes."

He looked critically at what she was wearing.

She grinned sheepishly at him and took of his top and jeans where she was standing. For a second, he thought she was going to stand naked in front of him, but to his relief she was still wearing her black leather outfit underneath.

She threw his clothes back to him.

"Thank you," she said, picking up the bag again and headed towards the bathroom to try them on.


	12. Chapter 11 – Betrayal

**Author's Note: **Eek another long gap between chapters. I'm sorry. I know how frustrating it is to wait for a story to be updated.

I had an idea a couple of days ago. You know I was writing a story of Chris' history as well as him time in the past (season six of Charmed) because I was writing for people who haven't seen the series. Well I'm bored.  I have written up to 'I dream of Phoebe' by hand and none of it on the computer yet. I hate writing things that aren't really mine and I have got tiered of writing something where I know where it is going. I think that I will leave the story finishing as Chris steps through the triquetra back in time and if my family like my story enough to want to know what happens next then I will tell them to watch the series. What do you guys think? Do you want me to carry on? I'd appreciate any feed back you have, especially as all of you (I hope) have seen the series and know what to expect anyway. Thank you.

Enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 11 – Betrayal**

After that day, Chris and Bianca put their differences aside and slowly began to like and trust each other. Chris was glad of the company in his lonely existence at P3, and Bianca hadn't turned out to be as bad as he first thought, despite constantly pestering him to be let outside which he finally agreed to, knowing how horrible it was to be cooped up indoors all day.

Bianca was unable to shield herself from Wyatt's sensing power and although P3 gave her this automatic protection, outside its walls she was unaided and vulnerable, which she constantly denied being the proud person she was.

Chris was able to get her a job as an assistant in a computer manufacturing firm under the name of Tanya Perry which she was able to do from inside P3. Tanya was her mother's name, and Perry Chris' middle name which she had taken quite a fancy to.

Although it wasn't the most exciting job in the world, Bianca seemed happy to have something useful to do and turned out to be quite a wiz with the laptop the company had given her to use. Chris however was completely inexperienced with the machines, and frequently questioned her about them, but never found out anything more then that they were used to hold data.

Bianca found the whole affair rather amusing and Chris was sure that she wasn't telling him about them simply because she wanted to superior him in something. So he dropped the subject until one morning when inspiration hit him.

Chris walked into the main part of P3 where he was surprised to see Bianca already up and typing.

"Good morning," he yawned.

"Hi," she replied, looking up from her work briefly.

"What are you doing up so early?" he asked, coming over to sit next to her.

Bianca looked ready to shut the lid, but didn't have to because as soon as Chris sat down on the sofa it collapsed underneath them, sending them sprawling to the floor where they lay laughing amongst the wreckage, the laptop beside them, its screen quivering.

"Chris," Bianca groaned, sitting up. "That's the second one you've busted!"

Chris stood up before helping her to her feet too.

"I know," he grinned, not in the least bit perturbed. "I'm sorry."

Bianca picked up her computer, folded down the screen and stuck it under one arm.

"And why does it always have to be my bed?"

Chris smiled his reply and ran a hand through his tousled brown hair.

"I have to go out for a while," he said. "Do you need anything?"

Bianca had never asked him where he went when he told her he was going out. He guessed she probably already knew and understood that it wasn't a subject he would talk about with her.

"Would you be able to get a pair of hair scissors?" she asked.

Chris' eyes widened.

"No," he replied flatly.

"Oh Chris," Bianca whined. "I can see you're not planning to visit a hairdresser anytime soon, and if you don't watch out your hair will be longer than mine."

Chris raised an eyebrow. His hair was just long enough to tuck behind his ears, which he liked because it stayed out of his eyes. Bianca apparently had other ideas.

"Okay fine," he agreed regretfully. "I'll see you later."

"Bye," Bianca said.

Chris turned to the door before suddenly finding himself enlightened.

"Bianca?" he asked slowly.

Bianca, who had found herself another seat, looked up.

"Does Wyatt use computers?"

Bianca looked shocked by the question.

"No," she said. "At least I don't think he does. But with all that magical capability, why would he need computers?"

"I don't know," agreed Chris. "But the probes he uses. They're built using technology and they are reliable in storing data."

"Fairly," said Bianca, looking puzzled. "Would you mind explaining what this is about?"

"Not now," Chris replied hurriedly. "I've got to go." And he quickly rushed out the door.

Upon reaching the Resistance he looked rapidly around for Simon who was the most technologically advanced member of the Resistance, which was why Chris had put him in charge of the probe case.

"Hey Mike!" he greeted one of the few Whitelighters the Resistance had.

"Good morning Chris," Mike replied. "How are you today?"

"Hopefully very good," Chris replied.

"I see," Mike smiled. He had grown used to his leader's ways and knew that he was onto something important. "Can I help?"

"Yes," said Chris. "If you see Simon, tell him I'm looking for him."

"Already have," answered Mike. "He's eating breakfast in the canteen."

"Cool," thanked Chris, running off. "See you later!"

The canteen wasn't much of a canteen, but it did the job of catering for the Resistance. The two cooks, Alice and Georgia were witches slightly too old for all the dangerous missions the Resistance went on and had happily retired to their favourite pastime; in the kitchen. Chris had often spent time there helping them before he had become leader, when he had had to cut down on the hobby he loved, for a large, more challenging role.

"Chris!" exclaimed Georgia happily as he entered the room, waving at him from behind her hatch. "Long time no see. How are you my dear?

"Fine thank you," Chris replied, walking over to her. "And yourself?"

"Very well," Georgia smiled. "Terrible business about those probes though, isn't it?"

Chris nodded. "I'm working on it."

"I'm sure you are," she said. "Now what can I get you today?"

"Just a piece of toast please," said Chris.

Georgia looked at him sceptically.

"You look like you haven't had a decent meal in months. How about some waffles and bacon with that piece of toast?"

Chris sighed good-naturedly.

"Okay," he nodded and Georgia went off to prepare his food.

Chris leant on the counter so he could still see her as she worked and continued the conversation.

"So how's the old assassin doing back home?" she asked.

"Very well," said Chris. "She got a job last week. Gives her something to do at least."

"Poor girl, it's a shame she can't stay here."

Chris nodded. "I daren't risk it."

Georgia gave him a small laugh and passed him his plate.

"Once an assassin, always an assassin eh?"

"Something like that," Chris replied, taking it. "Thank you."

He turned to look for Simon, who he found sitting at a table with his younger sister Eleanor. Both were hunched over a large sheet of paper. He went over, towards them.

"Hey guys, mind if I join you?" he asked.

"Hi Chris," said Eleanor, who was slightly younger than him. "Sure no problem."

"I need to ask you something Simon," he said, taking a seat.

"Ask away," his friend replied.

Chris took a deep breath in order to calm himself.

"Do you think that Wyatt could be storing the blueprint on a computer?"

As soon as Chris left, Bianca reopened the laptop and minimised the spreadsheet she was working on, and opened a new window. Wyatt's face appeared on the screen.

"Well?" he said.

"I think Chris is onto us?" she replied, adjusting the built in microphone.

To her surprise this didn't seem to bother him.

"How come?" he asked. "Doesn't he trust you?"

Bianca shook her head.

"No he trusts me," she said softly. "And I trust him."

Wyatt gave a cold laugh, which was made even more menacing by the interference caused by the shield around P3.

"Don't tell me you're falling for my brother's charm," he said, unimpressed.

Bianca shrugged her shoulders.

"He's a good person," she said. "Which is more than I can say about you."

Wyatt laughed again.

"I would stop before you disintegrate," he said. "Has he taken you to the Resistance yet?"

Bianca shook her head.

"Well then he doesn't trust you," Wyatt stated.

"He knows I am an assassin," Bianca argued. "And assassins aren't known for their loyalty. He would never take me there."

"Then you have failed me."

"No," she interrupted quickly. "He trusts me. He doesn't judge people by their heritage. He gave me a job didn't he?"

"Chris knows nothing of technology. If he knew you could contact me using it he would have never allowed it," Wyatt told her triumphantly.

"He asked me if you used computers," Bianca said. "I think he has a pretty good idea what you're up to."

"Impossible," Wyatt said.

"Improbable," Bianca corrected. "He's going to stop you again, just because the twice blessed one underestimates his weak little brother."

Bianca felt an invisible force clutch her throat tightly. Wyatt was staring intimately at her.

"Pardon me?" he queried.

Bianca clamped a hand to her neck instinctively trying to ease the constriction, whilst using the other to snap the laptop screen shut. A few seconds later she found she could breathe again and fell back on the sofa, panting. Wyatt needed to look at her in order to continue and she had broken that eye contact. She sat up straight again, massaging her tingling throat and reopened the laptop.

The screen flickered on again to show the Dark Lord's face once more. She knew he wouldn't try to strangle her again. That had just been a warning. She knew from past experience that Wyatt could do much worse than kill, and besides, she was his best, most trusted assassin and he wouldn't throw her away in a hurry, as he had given her the miniscule leeway that gave her the confidence she possessed when addressing him.

"How long before you will be ready to bring him to me?" Wyatt asked expressionlessly.

"Sometime this week I'm sure," Bianca replied in the same toneless voice.

"Before he finds out too much?" asked Wyatt.

"That'll be up to you to decide," she replied.

"Meaning?" Wyatt snapped.

"Meaning he won't join you."

"Of course he will," replied Wyatt. "Because soon there'll be nothing left for him to choose between."

Bianca cocked her eyebrows, not following what he was trying to say, but Wyatt disappeared from the screen. She sighed, as for the first time in years she felt pangs of guilt stabbing at her stomach. She couldn't understand it. Why was she feeling like this? She had been brought up to ignore the uncomfortable sensation and slowly it had disappeared as she grew more used to her job; but now it was back again, worse than ever. She wasn't even killing her target, but she supposed that betraying him to the Dark Lord was as good as that, perhaps worse. She killed swiftly and almost painlessly; Wyatt was at the opposite extreme. The insane pleasure he got from slowly disembodying a human being made her skin crawl. Not even the most ruthless Phoenix could carry that out. The second time he had asked her to work for him, he had forced her to watch her grandmother be killed in this way upon her refusal, and her mother threatened with the same treatment. Scared for her mother's life, she was compelled to agree, but was sure to let him know of her fierce loathing of the tyrant.

She had expected his brother to be the same; self conceited and arrogant. But over the past five or so weeks she had known Chris she realised just how wrong she was. She liked Chris a lot. Her entire childhood was working against her. Maybe Wyatt was right, maybe she was getting emotionally attached to the boy. Phoenixes were never supposed to feel this way. In their line of work it would mean their destruction. They would never be as successful as they were if they did. They were even told to distance themselves away from their family in order to receive this status in magical society. The only time they were allowed to let another into their lives was when they need an heir. Phoenixes only gave birth to girls; and as soon as their child was conceived they would never see the father again, and he would never know he had a child.

Bianca drummed her fingers on the plastic lid thoughtfully. Somehow she'd block out his hurt betrayal. Like she always did. Maybe then she'd live to fight another day.

Chris ran a hand through his dark overgrown hair and leant back in his chair.

"So I'll get a placement in a computer centre, and then look into any signs of activity in the software which could indicate use by Wyatt," said Simon, confirming and summarising what the three of them had planned to do.

Chris nodded.

"He won't have access to all the city's computers though, will he?" Eleanor asked. "I mean, why would he want that?"

"He'll want to control and monitor all the information passed in and out of the city," explained Simon. "Chris is right. Maybe computers are a means to Wyatt's success. I should be off right now."

"Thank you," said Chris as Simon stood up.

"No problem," his friend replied.

"Remember to check for information on the blueprint," Chris continued.

"Of course."

"Oh and Si?"

Simon turned to face Chris.

"Be careful."

"No fear," smiled Simon. "See you later Ella."

"Wait!" shouted Eleanor as Simon walked away. "I'll help you get ready."

She ran after her brother, who shot Chris a mournful look over his shoulder, making Chris laugh.

Once they had left he collected up the plates that had been left on the table and headed over to the hatch with them.

"Thank you," said Georgia as he placed them on the counter top.

"See you tomorrow Georgia," Chris replied. "And tell Alice I said hello."

"Are you going home now?" Georgia asked.

"I have to do a few things first, but then, yes I will. There's something I have to check on."

"Or someone," Georgia added.

Chris smiled. "I'm being given my first annual haircut," he said shyly.

"Ah," Georgia exclaimed, ducking out of sight to search for something, before coming up with a white, slightly steaming, paper bag. "A woman after my own heart."

She held the bag out to him.

"Here are some things to take back with you. You hadn't come to see me in so long that I thought you might have starved to death."

"I'm sorry," Chris smiled, taking the bag. "Thank you very much."

"Will you come tomorrow?"

"I'll try," Chris replied. "If I have time."

Georgia raised her eyebrows warningly.

"Make time."

As soon as Chris stepped into P3 that evening he threw the scissors he had bought over to Bianca. She didn't even bother to catch them, but let the cardboard packaging fall into her lap where she sat on the sofa, and looked at them blankly for a second.

Worried at her vacuous expression, Chris briskly went to her side before she smiled and looked up at him.

"You got them," she said happily, although sounding surprised.

Chris nodded, carefully taking a seat next to her, so yet another moth eaten couch wouldn't disintegrate underneath them.

"And some dinner," he said, handing her the bag, which was now slightly tattered.

Bianca peered inside.

"Rice and Chile con carne," he explained, knowing that all she could see were two polystyrene boxes.

"Cold rice and Chile con carne," she corrected.

"Which I can fix," Chris said, taking the bag off of her. "Take this Chile and take this rice, and heat it up to make it nice," he repeated, making Bianca giggle.

"It doesn't matter how many times I hear you say that, she said. "But it's still got to be one of the most ridiculous spells I've ever heard."

"Hey, it works," Chris replied, handing her a steaming package.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, opening it and inhaling the delicious smell from inside.

"So how was your day?" she asked.

"Good," Chris answered, showing a forkful of meat and rice into his mouth. "Yours?"

Bianca shrugged. "Been better," she said.

"How do you mean?"

"It's boring," she said simply.

Chris sighed. "I know, I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do."

Bianca nodded understandingly. "I guess I have to pay for everything I've done in my life," she said. "In fact this is pretty good on my part."

"Is this where the violins start playing?" Chris asked, before receiving a sharp poke in the ribs.

"You know, you're in a decisively good mood for someone whose brother is the Source of all evil."

"Yes," replied Chris frowning. "And I have a feeling this is leading somewhere."

"It is," Bianca said shortly.

"Would you like to tell me where?" Chris asked when she didn't continue.

Bianca looked at him, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment before lowering her eyes to her supper.

"I was just wondering what Wyatt was like as a child," she said quietly, completely absorbed with mixing the rice and meat in her pot together.

"As a child?" Chris repeated.

Bianca laughed nervously. "I know it sounds stupid," she said. "But that's what helps you through every day isn't it? The promise of your big brother back."

"And I will get him back," Chris said firmly, in case Bianca was doubting him.

"Can you tell me?" she asked.

Chris sighed and rested his head on the back of the sofa. He had never shared any of his early life with anyone, not even his closest friends in the Resistance. He had never wanted to. Nobody would ever feel the same way about Wyatt as he did. They only knew him as the Dark Lord and the Source; the thing he had become, not the human he was. But was he ever? Had Wyatt ever been completely human; the person her was supposed to be? Maybe at birth. Those sweet seconds of innocence, the glimmer of hope the Earth had long anticipated.

He gazed at Bianca's eager face and broke the eye contact to eat another spoonful of rice.

"There's nothing special about him," he mumbled. "We just did everything together, because we were so different to our friends." He paused. "We used to play lots of magical games."

Bianca smiled. "Like what?"

"Orb-and-seek was a favourite when we were younger." Chris said. "But Wyatt was obliged to cheat because of his sensing powers."

"Good practise for now," Bianca said with a smile that quickly vanished from her face when she realised what she had said.

Chris looked down at his dinner again.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I didn't think. That was stupid of me."

Chris smiled convincingly at her.

"I wish it was just a game," he replied. "Maybe to him it is. And we're all small insignificant pawns which he pushes around to his amusement."

He laughed humourlessly.

"It is just a game Bianca," he exclaimed with fierce realisation. "That's all it is. Just a game inside a game inside a game."

He saw Bianca shifting uncomfortably in her seat at his sudden change in attitude. But he didn't care.

"Don't you think it's just a game?" he asked her. "One big, sick, twisted game?"

The way she was looking him told him that she thought he had lost it. All that stress and pressure had finally got to him. Maybe it had. Even he wasn't sure anymore.

"No," Bianca stammered, making Chris raise an eyebrow. For an assassin, she was showing many signs of weakness. "We're in a war."

Chris laughed again. "We're in a war," he repeated, suddenly scaring himself at his resemblance to Wyatt. "Isn't a war a game too?"

"Chris," she said in a low voice. Her warning note drowned in uncertainty.

"What, it is isn't it?" Chris replied. "Until you realise you're going to die, it's one huge exhilarating game. Until you watch the ones you care about suffer and die at a pitiable cause. Until you realise that every damned thing you've ever done, has all been for nothing."

With a loud thud as his fist collided angrily with the sofa arm, Chris brought himself back to reality. He breathed slowly out to calm himself, and muttered an apology to his companion.

"I'm sorry," He faltered, feeling foolish. "I…"

Bianca nodded with a small, sad smile. She gingerly took his warm hand in her own trembling one.

"I know," she whispered. "But for what it's worth, I want you to know that I will always stick with you…"

She trailed off as she questioned herself, and Chris looked up at her, contemplating her statement.

"Really," he asked incredulously. "I'm not sure you're allowed to make that kind of decision."

"No," she replied. "But when I'm with you, I realise that I don't want to be that kind of person anymore. I watch how you so selflessly work to stop your brother from this evil in order to save everyone else, whilst I, being weak, have been working for him in order to stop you. Now I know that there is more to life then feeling safe. You showed me that."

Chris just stared at her for a moment, wondering what to say.

"Who said I don't benefit out of this?" he asked at length. I get my brother back. Imagine if you got the opportunity to raise your mother from the dead. It's like that. I have no family; they're all gone, but if I can save Wyatt then I have him back; I have my whole life back."

"I don't want my mother back," Bianca automatically replied. "She made me into this monster."

"You're not a monster,! Chris reassured her. "Not anymore."

"Aren't I?" She queried abruptly, standing up quickly, clearly about to burst. "I lied to you Chris. This is all a set up. Wyatt hired me to find your location and gain your trust so I could bring you back to him."

Chris felt his heart plummet to his stomach.

"What?" he whispered.

"I tricked you into offering me a place to stay," she said, before adding quietly adding. "I'm sorry."

Chris saw tears form in her eyes as her words sunk in. Bianca was still with Wyatt. Against him and against the Resistance. She had proved to him what he had begun to believe wasn't true, was.

He stood up too, pushing all the hurt behind a carefully composed mask of cool anger.

"I pose no threat to you anymore," she said, her voice quivering. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You don't mean that," Chris stated. "It was stupid of me to think you'd leave your line of work behind for a life of hiding away."

"You're wrong," Bianca interrupted, desperately trying not to cry, but failing miserably. "I was doing my job, which until now I thought I was very good at. But you changed me. You made me feel human. Able to realise what a mess I have allowed myself to become."

Chris opened his mouth to object, but Bianca continued, cutting him off.

"I don't know how you did it," she said, tears trickling steadily down her cheeks. "But look at me! I haven't cried since I was six years old, and now you've reduced me to a blubbering idiot. If you can tell me how you're doing this to me, I demand to know."

She paused for a reply, but none came. Chris continued to stare at her in a way he never thought he could stare at a person. The past month's memories surging around him as he tried to make sense of them.

"Won't you say anything?" she asked, shivering.

"What's there to say?" Chris replied, not shifting his eyes from the piercing, yet unfocused position they were unwilling to move from.

"Well," Bianca shook even more, despite her attempts to pull herself together. "Do you think it's possible that…maybe…love?"

"Get out!" Chris suddenly snarled, his eyes losing their glazed look.

He couldn't let Bianca continue. She had betrayed his trust and he had been gullible enough to believe her story, almost putting the Resistance at risk. Nothing was more important than the hundreds of people who relied on the organisation to survive and of the millions who would benefit from the small hope it brought. He wasn't going to risk anything else with Bianca. He would send her back to Wyatt empty handed.

Bianca took a hasty step backwards.

"I'm not going to take you to Wyatt," she said hurriedly.

"Get out!" Chris repeated slightly louder, causing the assassin to take another step towards the door.

"Why won't you kill me?" she asked desperately.

"GET OUT!" Chris roared, flinging the heavy door open with his telekinesis.

Bianca looked at him for what he hoped would be the last time, before running into the dark night outside.

Chris was just about to telekinetically close the door behind her, when he heard an audible crash and an uncomfortable yell. He ran to the doorway just in time to receive an eleven year old Rebecca ploughing into him with her power of super speed.

He spotted Bianca a few metres away, picking herself off the floor, but he had no concern to spend anymore time with her.

Rebecca was breathing heavily. More out of fear than exhaustion, which Chris instantly saw in her eyes as she pulled away from his cushioning.

"Chris," she cried hysterically. "Wyatt…Wyatt, he's found us. We're under attack!"


	13. Chapter 12 – Desire, Despair and Devasta

**Authors Note: **And another Chapter is here. Honestly I don't have much more to go now and the whole thing should (fingers crossed) be up by at least the end of April.

Thank you again for the fantastic reviews especially from the crazyDFFgang who have faithfully reviewed my story throughout each chapter with reviews I most enjoy reading.

I really hope you guys like this one…

**Chapter 12 – Desire, Despair and Devastation**

Chris studied the trembling girl before him.

"They're killing everyone," she wept. "I'm sure a demon saw me leave for here but he wasn't able to catch me."

As if on cue, a demon shimmered in; a fireball readied and burning brightly in its palm. Chris lifted his arm to telekinetically throw the demon backwards, but Bianca got there first.

In a split second she had conjured her atheme and hurled it at the demon, where it sunk deep into its heart, vanquishing it instantly in a small flickering explosion.

The atheme clattered to the floor and she picked it up, making it disappear with a red glow.

"Thank you," Rebecca squeaked, but Chris couldn't bring himself to say any kind words on her behalf, so instead he spoke to the girl who was still clutching his arm tightly.

"Rebecca, stay in P3 until I come back. You'll be safe there."

"No, no!" she replied in terror. "They'll kill you. No one can stop them. No one was prepared."

"Wyatt will be after the book," Bianca spoke for the first time.

Chris looked up at her in anger.

"You knew about this?" he growled. "And you weren't even going to tell me."

"No," Bianca anxiously defended herself. "I had no idea he had found out the location of the Resistance. But the book. He'll want to stop anymore rebels."

Furious and lacking in time, Chris turned away from her and prompted Rebecca further inside P3.

"Stay inside," he said. "I promise I'll come back; and if I can't someone will."

"No…" Rebecca began, but Chris had already shut the door.

"Chris," Bianca started as he prepared to orb out.

He didn't want to, nor had the time to listen to any of her stories and orbed as quickly as he could to the Resistance.

It took him a long moment to take in the scene before him when he arrived, and at first he could only stand in the shadows where he had appeared and look on in horror.

The entire street was on fire. The dozen buildings that had surrounded the Resistance were ablaze. Flames hungrily licked the cold grey boxes, sending bright sparks metres into the air as timber and brick collapsed in on themselves. Chris could feel the immense heat from where he stood; sweat began to drench his sticky clothes. The ear splitting spitting and crackling of fire was everywhere; but it couldn't drown out the screams of terror and pain of a hundred people fighting or running for their lives in the mass frenzy of demons, Darklighters, witches and mortals. Bodies and ash littered the floor; the fallen being carelessly trampled underfoot, beyond help.

An energy ball zipped past Chris' ear, instantly spurring him into action. Another energy ball followed swiftly after the first, this time on target. But Chris was ready for it, and with a simple wave of his hand the ball reversed its course, and like a sizzling boomerang, spun back to its owner, causing the demon to mimic the inferno behind, as it disintegrated into fine black ash.

It was as if this demon had been the first to dare the undareable; and now once it had attacked him, others were now liable to follow suit. A hailstorm of energy balls and fireballs were launched into the air and rained down upon him. There was no time for and strategising or incantations; only instinct and luck could save him now. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he frantically reflected energy balls back at the demons, trying not to harm anyone else.

A searing burning in his shoulder flung him to the ground in agony when a fireball met its mark. He struggled to righten himself before another hit and took out two demons before they could finish him off, leaving only a third with a burning fireball in its hand. A split second later, it too was vanquished by a person behind it.

As the smoke cleared, Chris was shocked to see Rebecca standing there with an atheme in her hand. He climbed to his feet and began to speak before Rebecca cut him off.

"Bianca gave it to me," she said quickly.

"What!" Chris exclaimed, destroying another demon with its own energy ball.

"She wants to help us," Rebecca continued. "I was going to come anyway. At least now I can protect myself."

As if to prove her point she threw the atheme like a spear, instantly vanquishing the demon it was aimed at. She ran to collect it, unknowingly right into danger.

"NO REBECCA COME BACK!" Chris yelled, pushing the energy balls that headed her way, away with a vicious swipe of his arm, causing pain to shoot down it from his damaged shoulder.

Panicking, Rebecca used her super speed to get out the way, but in her fear ran straight into the demon that had attacked.

Chris watched in horror as the demon caught hold of the girl and propelled her into the wall of a burning house. She slid to the floor and made no motion to get up again.

Chris ran blindly forwards and whipped his arm in rage, the demon flying into a burning building, crashing through the fragile roof into the inferno below, but not before sending another two energy balls at the child's prone form.

Chris rant to her side and shook her gently.

"Rebecca?" he asked softly.

He heard the house creak threateningly.

"Rebecca wake up," he said desperately.

He placed two fingers on the side of her neck but felt nothing but the warm trickle of blood from her head.

"No," he said, feeling the walls teeter towards him. "You can't be dead. Come on Becky."

Suddenly he felt a strong hand take hold of the neck of his t-shirt and shimmer him out just as the building cam crashing down.

Chris swung round as soon as they had materialised and stared into the face of Bianca.

"I'm not going to desert you that quickly," she stated dryly.

"Why did you let her come?" he demanded.

"Chris, we don't have the time to talk right now, in case you hadn't noticed. But we have to get the book that you have before the demons do. Wyatt needs it to stop any more rebels."

Chris shifted and prepared to leave, but Bianca stopped him.

"Chris you have to trust me," she pleaded. "Do you want to save the world? Save your brother?"

Chris looked at her. He knew that there wasn't much else he could do.

"Okay," he said finally. "How do we do it?"

Bianca smiled. "Well the demons and Darklighters here should know that I am an assassin for Wyatt and if we pretend to fight each other they'll leave you alone and you can lead us to where the book is."

"What about everyone else?" Chris asked.

"There won't be anyone else if we don't get the book," Bianca said. "Now come, and hurry."

Chris rushed towards the Resistance's building, pausing only to vanquish a demon who was attacking Simon.

"Thank you," she said.

Chris waved his appreciation as he ran past, Bianca hot on his tail.

Suddenly a hot light whizzed past his ear and he span around to face his attacker, but it was only Bianca who had apparently spotted some demon who wanted to kill him. He looked to his left and sure enough a Darklighter was standing there, crossbow loaded with a poisonous arrow.

Bianca threw another energy ball and Chris deflected it with a wave of his good arm. The Darklighter still looked ready to fire.

"Leave him," Bianca growled. "He's mine."

She hurled another energy ball Chris' way, who this time sent it to the Darklighter who wasn't able to shimmer out fast enough and exploded upon impact.

Chris began to run again and this time was able to reach the Resistance without interruption.

A massive hole had been blown into the side of it where the entrance portal once was. Someone had been seen by a probe entering or exiting the building. The magical shield had been destroyed and the building ripped apart. Chris took a deep breath and dashed through the hole.

Bodies littered the floor; blank eyes stared up at him, reflecting the pain of the thing that had killed them. Mangled flesh and mutilated bodies lay everywhere. He knew them all.

The sight caused him to stumble, but it was just as well he did, as a fireball zipped over his head narrowly missing his scalp.

He telekinetically threw the demons through another hole in the wall and Bianca vanquished the final one with an energy ball.

Chris stopped running, knowing that they were safe for the minute, and was desperately in need of getting his breath back. He went into an empty corridor and bent over, resting his hands on his legs, breathing heavily. Bianca came to stand next to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Chris nodded, but knew that she knew he wasn't.

She placed her hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Chris shrugged her hand away, grimacing in pain at the movement.

"Yeah," he said bitterly. "Come on."

He began to walk quickly down the sloping corridor.

Suddenly he heard the sound of quick feet coming towards them from further on. Chris braced himself for an attack and heard Bianca prepare an energy ball.

Just then Danny appeared, breathless and red faced from around the corner, a broken metal pole in his hand.

"Chris," he exclaimed in relief, before the fear returned. "CHRIS DUCK!" he shouted.

Chris' first instinct was to turn around, but experience brought him to the floor before he could decide what was happening.

Danny hurled the pole like a javelin at the attacker with an energy ball in her hand.

"NO!" Chris yelled, realising what Danny had just done.

He shot up, ignoring his shoulders burning protest and caught Bianca before she fell.

"Danny that's Bianca!"

Danny froze. "Oh my gosh," he stammered. "Man I'm so sorry!"

Chris lowered Bianca to the floor slowly. She was shaking violently, her breathing ragged.

"I'm so sorry," he said to her, brushing the hair from her face, trying to ignore the large pole sticking out her abdomen.

She opened her eyes and attempted a smile.

"Not…your…fault," she said with small gasping breaths.

"Andrea, Michael, Thomas!" Chris shouted, raising his head. "Anyone?"

Familiar blue orbs appeared and Andrea materialized.

"A demon Chris?" she asked confused, kneeling next to him.

Chris shook his head. "Bianca," he said.

Andrea mouthed 'oh' and leant over the former assassin.

"Bianca?" she questioned.

Bianca nodded sharply, the pain clearly visible in her eyes.

"This is going to hurt a lot okay," Andrea continued. "Just concentrate on breathing."

Bianca nodded again and Chris felt her take his hand. This time he didn't reject it.

Andrea stood up and took hold of the pole and began to work it out of her body.

Bianca screwed up her eyes and gritted her teeth. Her grip on Chris' hand tightened like a vice. Although nearing death she was still stubborn enough not to let anybody hear her scream.

Soon the bloody pole was thrown to the floor and blood began to flow freely. Andrea knelt down and stretched her hands over the gaping wound as the witch's breathing slowed to a whisper.

"Hurry," Chris said.

Andrea ignored him and concentrated on healing. Slowly the wound closed up and as the last bits of skin and cloth knitted together Bianca sat up with a gasp.

"Are you okay?" Andrea asked.

"Yes," Bianca nodded. "Thank you."

"I'm very sorry," Danny said. "You were wearing black, you had an energy ball, you know… I panicked."

"It's okay," Bianca said, getting up. "Here." She handed him the metal pole. "You may need this."

Chris nodded. "Andrea, you and Danny round up as many survivors as you can and take them to P3. It's protected and you should be safe there for now."

"Okay," Andrea agreed, stretching out her hands to heal him. "But what about you?"

"I have to get the book. With it Wyatt can stop us completely and the Resistance has no hope of reforming." He paused for breath. "Good luck."

Danny and Andrea smiled slightly.

"You too," they replied unanimously and ran back up the corridor.

Chris looked at Bianca and she gave him a wry smile.

"Let's finish this," she said and they sprinted the final stretch to the room that contained the book.

When they arrived Chris noted with horror that the door was slightly ajar. He thrust it open and gazed round the freezing room. Ella's body lay on the stone floor next to the splintered wooden stand. The book was nowhere to be seen.

Chris ran to Ella but her skin was paper white, her lips as blue as ink. He checked her pulse but received the answer he already knew. The energy balls had claimed another victim.

"We're too late," he whispered.

"The demons are still attacking," Bianca said. "We better round up as many people as we can. Unless they go to P3 they'll be sitting ducks."

Chris slowly got to his feet.

"You're right," he said. "We should split up, it'll be quicker."

"No Bianca replied. "I can protect you from demon attacks."

"But we can save more if we're not together," Chris argued.

"Chris, if there's another way to stop Wyatt, you're that way," Bianca said. "I can't let you die. Besides who's going to believe me that I'm on your side?"

A loud noise just outside caused them to jump. Bianca pushed Chris to the floor.

"Stay there," she whispered sharply, just before a demon walked in.

"They're both dead," Bianca told it.

Chris lay as still as he could muster, thankful that the room was dark.

"Well that's everywhere," the demon said. "We can go now."

"Do we have the book?" Bianca asked.

"We do," the demon replied. "Lord Wyatt will be pleased today."

Chris didn't think he could hold his breath any longer after the period of silence that followed, but just as he thought he would burst, Bianca came over to him.

"It's safe," she said. "You can get up."

Chris breathed out thankfully and climbed to his feet.

"What did he mean by that's everywhere?" he asked fearfully.

Bianca just looked at him.

"I'm sure there are some survivors. Andrea and Danny got them out," she said.

Chris began pacing. "Everyone's gone?" he said, on the verge of becoming hysterical.

"Chris," Bianca warned him.

"But that's impossible. They can't be…"

He knew he'd have to find out for himself and ran from the room. Bianca followed him.

"Chris where are you going?" she asked, sounding scared, bur Chris wasn't listening.

"Not everyone…" he murmured.

He reached the canteen and at first thought it had been untouched until he saw the broken chairs in the corner of the room, splattered with red. He ran over to it and saw Alice lying dead in the mauled mess.

"Alice?" he whispered, touching the old lady lightly on the arm.

He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. This couldn't be happening.

He ran over to the counter.

"Georgia?" he asked, but saw that she too had been caught and was slouched over a worktop. The knife she had been using to chop vegetables was now sunk deep into her back.

He retreated his head from the hatch.

"God this is all my fault," he moaned.

He ran to the door, but Bianca caught hold of him. Chris tried to push past her but she held his arms tightly and shook him until he gave up and looked at her. He saw the tears pricking her eyes, but her gaze remained firm.

"Chris, you've got to stop," she said.

"I must see…" he began. "It can't have been everyone."

"If Wyatt wanted everyone dead, everyone will be dead," Bianca said. "I'm sorry Chris."

Chris shook his head. "I'm alive, so maybe…"

Bianca stopped him. "Wyatt wasn't counting on me betraying him," she said. "We have to get out of here."

Chris pushed her aside and began to walk briskly up the corridor. It just wasn't possible.

"But Andrea and Danny?" he continued.

"They'll be waiting for us in P3 with the survivors," Bianca promised, striding after him.

They reached ground level, to where the majority of bodies were. Everything was so still. Michael had four Darklighter arrows protruding from his back. Jen, so maimed by energy balls that she was barely recognisable as the pretty, happy witch who was always able to cheer him up. Simon, the computer whiz and trusty friend lay; eyes wide open in fear, blood seeping from his open mouth.

"Chris, probes will be here any minute."

Danny, who was loyal to him despite their frequent disagreements, was impaled on his own weapon. And Andrea. A single Darklighter arrow was stuck into her chest.

Chris ran to her, praying that she was still alive as Darklighter poison often took a long time to kill. Sometimes hours. But the arrow was too close to her heart.

He sunk to his knees, a wave of despair washed over him. He buried his head into Andrea's body and cried harder then he had ever done in his life. He beat the floor with his fists, the extreme reality hitting home.

He heard Bianca kneel next to him and awkwardly put her hand on his back. Chris could feel its warmth through his t-shirt. The warmth that the body beneath him and around him had lost. Slowly the hand began to move up and down his back with the security he had long forgotten.

"I killed them," he sobbed. "I killed them all."

"No," Bianca replied. "Wyatt killed them."

"I could have saved him," Chris continued. "I could have stopped this."

"Chris."

"I don't want to do this anymore. I can't keep on fighting him forever."

Chris pulled himself up to glare at Bianca angrily.

"Why didn't you let me be killed? I should have died with them!"

"Don't say things like that," she replied helplessly.

Chris buried his head in his hands.

"Tried so hard," he admitted. "I wanted everything to be right. Now look at the world."

"Chris," Bianca began. "We have to get back to P3 before the probes come."

"No," Chris replied with a deep breath. "You'll take me to Wyatt."

"What!" Bianca exclaimed. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Quite possibly," Chris replied. "But I don't want anyone else to die by my hand today, and if Wyatt finds out that you betrayed him, he'll kill you."

"That's better than betraying a friend," she replied. "I don't want to cause you anymore pain."

"Wyatt doesn't have it in him to kill me," he said.

"He can do far worse then kill," she answered. "I won't do it."

Chris sighed and got to his feet.

"You said it yourself. I may be the last hope now the Resistance is gone," he told her. "He told me years ago that he was doing this to protect us from anymore suffering and loss. Maybe if he can see what he has done to me instead he'll realise his mistake. He'll feel guilty. He'll mend his ways. He'll fix what's left of the Earth for everyone's sakes."

"I don't think that will work," Bianca replied.

"So what will?" Chris snapped. "I have nothing, repeat, nothing left. What else can I do?"

Bianca was silent for a moment.

"You have me," she whispered. "And I swear on pain of death that I will never desert you. You've helped me change my life and it's time I repaid the favour."

Chris nodded slightly.

"Then take me to Wyatt," he said, holding out his hand.

Bianca looked at it before taking it slowly; regret flashing through her deep eyes as she gazed at him.

"On one condition," she said softly. "That you come back to me. Safely. I'll wait for you in the San Francisco Arboretum. It's a safe place."

Chris nodded. "Okay," he agreed. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

She squeezed his hand tightly and as they disappeared, Chris watched the Resistance and his years there ripple away.


	14. Chapter 13 – My Little Brother

**Authors Note: **Chapter 13/16, not long to go. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for the great reviews.

**Chapter 13 – My Little Brother**

Chris and Bianca reappeared in a part of the underworld Chris had never been to. It was defiantly the underworld because of the low uneven roof and the eerie flaming torches on the rock walls, but halfway through the cavern the floor sloped away to form a huge, still, underground lake. Wyatt was standing on a sort of wooden pier in the middle of the water, his back to them and head bowed, gazing into its clear depths.

"I hope you haven't failed me Bianca," he said, before lifting his head and turning around to face the pair of them.

Chris felt a wave of hatred surge through him. Wyatt had just ordered yet another mass murder whilst he had just stood here in the demon's equivalent of what no longer existed above. A place of tranquillity.

Bianca did not reply, but raised her chin slightly.

Wyatt gave her a grim smile. "You may leave us," he commanded.

Chris saw Bianca look at him through the corner of his eye before she shimmered out, but he couldn't tear his glance away from Wyatt anymore than he could open his mouth and speak to him. He wasn't afraid of him. His anger had eradicated that, but it also restricted him to the simplicity of staring and immobility.

"Surprised to be here?" Wyatt queried.

Chris just stared.

Wyatt laughed. "I thought you might want to know that I am going to renovate the Halliwell Manor into a museum."

Chris continued to stare.

"I would like people to know the power from whence I came and that which I possess. People will appreciate my power and why I am capable of ruling them."

Chris didn't move.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

Chris decided that he could trust his voice.

"You killed them," he said firmly, causing Wyatt to laugh again.

"Is that what you're thinking about?" he asked rhetorically, before the smile vanished from his face. "Yes, I killed them," he replied.

"Why?" asked Chris.

"Chris, the Resistance were a threat to my rule," he said. "All I did was eliminate the threat."

Chris couldn't suppress his anger any longer.

"Wyatt you're a threat to the whole damn world!" he exclaimed. "You're destroying it and you don't even seem to care!"

"Order comes with time."

"No," Chris shouted. "You're abusing your power."

"I'm protecting my family."

"LIAR!" Chris spat, but suddenly found he couldn't continue. A tight invisible grip had fastened itself around his neck; cutting off his air. He tried to breathe in, but found himself unable to. He looked at Wyatt who had his hand slightly closed and was slowly lifting it up into the air. The moment Chris was unable to touch the ground he began to panic. He swung his legs wildly in order to free himself, and desperately groped at his neck to release the now suffocating constriction. His vision began to swim and the whole room started spinning, but he could still make out Wyatt's voice.

"What did you say?" it asked.

Chris opened his mouth, but no words came out. His lungs were burning up, screaming for the precious thing he couldn't give them no matter what he did. He could now feel blackness creeping in from the corners of his eyes, consuming him in its depths. Then, just as suddenly as light comes to a bulb, he could feel air rushing into his lungs; a greater gift then if he was given the entire Earth as a diamond. He felt himself falling as Wyatt released him, but he didn't notice the uncomfortable landing as he was too busy breathing in his depravity.

He felt Wyatt's hard gaze on him as, coughing he slowly clambered to his feet.

"I said," he continued raucously. "That's a lie. You have no family to protect."

"Then what am I to you?" Wyatt asked.

"You're the monster who killed my brother."

"Deserting me are we?" Wyatt asked, his casual amusement sounding forced.

"My brother promised me a long time ago that he would look after me, love me and protect me forever," said Chris, his breathing almost back to normal. "My brother never lied."

Wyatt swung his arm to knock Chris backwards, but Chris knew that what he had said would strike a nerve and he was ready for it and deflected it back to him, sending Wyatt flying.

"After you destroyed everyone's lives, they worked hard to rebuild them. I did too. I found a new family who were willing to help me save you, but you killed them all and tore me apart in the process. Instead of saving me from hurt, you've only caused more and corrupted yourself in the process. It's time somebody whacked you round the head and brought you back to your senses."

"If you had joined me right from the start, you could have been spared this pain," said Wyatt. "And if you join me now you can be spared from anymore."

Chris couldn't believe he was being asked again and that Wyatt could have possibly thought that his answer had changed, so he didn't say anything.

Wyatt shifted on his feet and frowned. "You have to understand Chris that in joining the Resistance you betrayed me. In following their leader's attacks on my army, in spying for him in my headquarters, in failing my plans just because he commanded you to, you betrayed me. You followed the orders of a complete stranger against your own brother. You don't know how hard your leader made it for me to carry out my own plans. You should be happy for him that he was killed with the rest of them instead of letting me get my hands on him."

"Poor Wyatt," Chris mocked. "Do you regret not being able to kill him personally?"

"With you as his petty followers he was more than just a nuisance," Wyatt replied.

"Well that's nice to know," Chris smiled, taking a seat on the dusty floor. "Kill me."

Wyatt raised a thick eyebrow. "Now Christopher, why do you so desperately want me to do that?"

"You said you wanted to kill the Resistance leader," Chris said looking up. "Well here's your chance."

"You?" asked Wyatt shocked.

"Now is it really that surprising?" Chris asked.

Wyatt's face went stony. "I have a special spell which I save for the likes of you," he said. "You may remember it. Does the word Agorisis sound familiar to you?"

Chris felt his stomach flip. He got to his feet.

"Wyatt…"

Wyatt ignored him. "Nobody crosses me Chris, and if this is what it takes to teach them that lesson then so be it."

Suddenly Chris felt his body begin to tingle. He had been expecting an incantation, but all Wyatt had done was look at him. The tingling became worse; it was now like somebody was spiking pins into every pore of his skin. He shifted uncomfortably, trying not to show Wyatt how much pain it was causing. Slowly the spiking progressed to knives peeling the skin off of his arms and legs. He gritted his teeth and screwed his eyes shut just before pain burst through his abdomen and he couldn't stand up any longer. He fell to the floor clutching his middle as the fire licked his chest and grew like a vine, wrapping itself around every organ and muscle and bone and squeezing like an anaconda until he was forced to yell in agony. He dug his fingers into the mud on the floor and compressed it in his fists until his nails dug deep into his palms.

The pain subsided slightly and Chris tried to prop himself up on his shaking elbows, so he could look up at Wyatt, who had turned his head to one side so he couldn't see what was happening.

"Wyatt," Chris begged, before another wave of pain hit him. This time it was more sudden and stronger. Chris instantly curled up as tight as he could, but this didn't even give him the smallest amount of relief. He felt the soft powdery dirt in his mouth. The cool texture bliss compared to his burning body. He tried to swallow some, but his body was no longer under his control and the dust lingered in his throat unable to be coughed out. He wanted nothing more at that moment then to die. He was sure his body wouldn't be able to take much more of the agony being inflicted on it and already he felt his legs beginning to numb.

Then it was over. He could lie still and nothing pushed him into moving. He wondered if he was dead, but he could tell by the ghost sensation of his body struggling to recollect itself that he wasn't. And the dust. It was still in his throat, which now knew it could be rid of it. He threw himself to his elbows and began coughing and swallowing until he felt more comfortable; then, shattered he fell back to the floor breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry Chris," Wyatt said softly.

"Like hell you are," he replied. "I saved hundreds of people you wanted to kill. I have to pay, remember?"

Then inch by inch, Chris shakily got to his feet and glared at him.

"Do you have a death wish?" Wyatt asked, conjuring an energy ball.

Chris suddenly remembered Bianca and what she had said about the arboretum.

"Not just yet," he replied. "But I'm sure you differ."

"I don't actually," replied Wyatt, hurling the energy ball at Chris who deflected it into the cavern wall.

Chris retorted with a violent swing of his arm which Wyatt reflected back at him and sent him soaring onto the wooden pier, which creaked underneath him as he hit it.

Another volley of energy balls followed swiftly after this. Some burning through wood and others Chris was able to extinguish. He climbed to his feet, his whole being complaining like the pier beneath his feet. He didn't know how much longer he could last before he collapsed with exhaustion. Wyatt seemed to notice this too and decided to cut the fight short.

Chris watched as if in slow motion Wyatt as he held his hands out and a humongous orange wave of energy emitted from them. He watched it near him. He had seen Wyatt use this power before. It was like an energy ball but impossible to miss with and ten times more powerful. He could take out a huge number of demons with it and now he was going to take out Chris. He could tell from the yellow tinge that it was at low power and not designed to kill him instantly, but it was going to hurt a lot and their was nothing he could do to stop it. He closed his eyes and waited for impact.

Wyatt watched the wave rip through his brother, the force propelling him through the air and landed with a splash into the lake, sending beads glass everywhere and ripples to course through the stillness of the water. He raced along the pier to gaze into the aqua that was being slowly stained a pale pink and watched his brothers body sink silently into the depths.

He groaned. "Chris you give up far too easily," he murmured, and blinked causing Chris to disappear in a shower of dark orbs and reappear on the deck next to him.

There was a gaping slash on his chest where the energy had burnt into flesh and Wyatt knelt down and placed his hands over it until it had healed.

Chris woke with a groan, another tingling sensation in his chest made him moan louder, reminding him of the Agorisis spell and for a moment believing he'd have to go through it again.

It was then that he realised that he was soaking wet and shivered. He opened his eyes and saw Wyatt standing over him.

"Don't think I'll let you escape that way. I haven't finished with you yet."

Chris groaned for a third time and closed his eyes again.

Wyatt laughed. "Tedious isn't it?" he said. "But I can't keep you here. I'm sure the big bad world out there has some more treats in store for you. One day you will realise that it is futile to refuse me and you will come running to me, begging to let yourself join me. Know why? Because I can make your life hell without even looking at you. I've given you so many chances Chris, and I'm going to give you one more, to prove to you that with me is the only way you will be happy and safe."

Chris frowned.

"Now go," said Wyatt. "And this will be the last time I let you, believe me."

Chris stood up and looked Wyatt in the face. He was still a head taller than him, but Chris didn't care.

"Am I supposed to say thank you?" he asked. "Because as well as this being an opportunity to prove me wrong, it is also an opportunity for me to save you."

"There is no way to 'save me'," Wyatt remarked.

"No?" queried Chris, leaning closer towards him and looking deep into his brown eyes until a flicker of uncertainty shone there for just a brief second. Satisfied Chris stepped backwards. "I think so," he said and orbed out.

The Arboretum was a small garden, which would have one been very beautiful, but now in the thick dark smog that hung over the city the flowers in the beds had died and the grass looked a sickly grey. The marble statues of what could have been angels had eroded and crumbled with neglect, but a marble bench in the middle was still standing and Bianca was there sitting on it.

She jumped up as soon as she saw him and ran up to him. He expected her to stop just in front of him, but instead she pounced on him and flung her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

Surprised at the sudden gesture Chris hugged her back.

"I was so worried. I thought he would kill you or do something terrible and…"

Chris pulled away. "Now you're beginning to sound like my mother," he said stopping her in mid sentence.

At that Bianca seemed to have realised what she had just done. She stepped backwards quickly and straightened her now slightly wet leather outfit.

"Yeah," she said awkwardly. "Sorry, I was just a bit panicky you know?" She gave a nervous laugh. "You know it's not often that I feel like that. He didn't hurt you did he?"

"Do I look hurt?" Chris asked and she shook her head cautiously.

Chris walked over to the bench and sat down with a sigh; Bianca followed suit.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

Chris shrugged. "I just wish this day was over, you know?"

Bianca nodded.

"But," he continued with a lighter tone. "He let me go."

"Why?" Bianca asked.

"Well apparently I'll come running to him one day begging him to let me join him," Chris explained. "That until then he's going to make my life a misery."

"Chris you have to be careful," Bianca said.

Chris nodded. "I know," he said.

There was a long pause before Bianca opened her mouth.

"Why are you so wet?" she asked.

"I went swimming," he replied simply.

"In that lake?" she pulled a face. "Goodness knows what lives in it."

Chris smiled and Bianca put a hand on his knee.

"I'll help you save him," she said. "Good people like your brother don't turn out like this for nothing. There has to be a reason and we're going to find it and we're going to fix it."


	15. Chapter 14 – Our Only Hope

**Authors Note: **Not long to go now. I finished typing up the story a couple of days ago so I should have the last couple of chapters up sometime next week. Thank you for sticking with the story for so long and for great reviews. This chapter's not so long but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Sorry about the delay guys. I wanted to have this chapter up ages ago, but hasn't been letting me upload it. Grrr! I kept on getting errors.

**Chapter 14 – Our Only Hope**

Over the next year Chris was able to get his life to touch the tips of a normal routine again. He was still able to live in P3, but was surprised at how much he had become used to waking up every morning to Bianca's frequent, early trips to the bathroom and began to feel very lonely without her company.

He had sent Bianca back to Wyatt, not only to save her life, but also to use her as a spy to help him discover what Wyatt was up to. He found that she was a better spy then all of the members of the Resistance had ever been put together since she was one of Wyatt's most trusted assassins. They were able to meet up in the Arboretum every Thursday to give each other the latest news as well as just to talk any silly nonsense for a couple of hours. These brief meetings were the only highlight in their current lives. Wyatt had meant it when he had said he would make Chris' life hell, and although Chris was sure his cloaking powers had become stronger over the year, he found himself running into more demons and Darklighters than ever before. He knew that Bianca was also going through a rough period as she now refused to kill any innocent people, but hadn't yet told Wyatt this to his face. She had grown weary of the constant covering she was forced to do and despite her cool attitude she put on when she met up with Chris, he could tell that underneath she was petrified that one day Wyatt would discover her betrayal. He didn't realise just how scared she was until on Thursday evening when he orbed to the Arboretum to find Bianca curled up on the bench, hugging her knees tightly. She instantly uncurled when she felt Chris' presence and smiled. But Chris knew something was wrong. He sat down on the bench next to her.

"How are you?" she greeted cheerfully.

Chris frowned. "Bianca," he said. "How long is it going to be before we're honest with each other?"

Bianca's smile vanished. "It's nothing I can't handle," she replied stiffly.

"Did Wyatt find out?" he asked.

"No," Bianca shook her head. "Not yet. But one day it'll click, you know." She gave a shuddering sigh. "You don't know what he can do to people Chris. How he can get them screaming to be killed and even then he won't give them that peace. And I feel so selfish, letting him do this to people and not trying to stop it. Just to save my own skin."

"You're not just doing it for yourself," Chris tried to convince her. "You're doing it for everyone else, so we can save them from this."

"No Chris," Bianca said. "There is no way. We're too late."

Chris stared at her. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know Wyatt was going to open that museum in your old house? Well he set up a committee of demons to look in the archives in the underworld about the Charmed Ones and their history. I was able to get on that committee and some of us even got to look in the Book of Shadows."

"He let you look in the Book of Shadows?!" Chris exclaimed.

"Well he blocked the majority of pages and only lets us see the ones we need, but…" Bianca held out her hand and a small bottle with a clear, water like solution in it appeared in her palm in an orange glow.

Chris knew all the powers she possessed by now and a couple of them were quite impressive, especially her power to reform if a witch, with a power like his mother's of exploding matter into thousands of tiny pieces, blew her up. As well as this and conjuring, she could also drain another witch or demon of their powers. But unlike most demons who possessed this power, she was unable to harness the powers she had taken and use them for herself.

He took the potion from her and peered inside the bottle.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a potion which counteracts Darklighter poison," Bianca replied. "I thought you may find it useful, what with all those Darklighters after you."

"Thanks," Chris smiled.

"It doesn't heal the arrow wound by the way. Just neutralises the poison, so I still wouldn't recommend getting shot."

Chris slipped the bottle into his pocket. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "So what about the archives?"

"Oh, well I came across one article which didn't seem to make much sense. It was about Wyatt and something that happened to him. If I interpreted correctly it was something that it said would change his life forever. Or…" she stopped.

"Turn him evil," both of them said unanimously.

"How long ago?" Chris asked her.

Bianca gritted her teeth. "Somewhere between a couple of months old and your birthday."

Chris just stared for a moment. "Before I was born?" he asked.

Bianca nodded. "It doesn't even say what happened to him," she said. "If things had been different back then, then maybe he could have been saved. But I think that maybe the only way we can save him now is to destroy him."

"No," Chris refused.

"Chris," Bianca reasoned. "I understand why you want to save him, really I do, but whilst we're sitting here discussing futile ways of doing so, he is out there killing people. I know you're a good person, but how many more innocents will you let die for the sake of one who could have destroyed all evil in the world, but instead chose to turn the other way? We have to stop him while we still can."

Chris was lost in thought. What Bianca had first said, how he could have been saved, echoed around his head. All this magic in the world and he still couldn't do the simple task of helping Wyatt.

Then like a lightning bolt it hit him. He jerked in excitement, causing Bianca to jump at the unexpected motion.

"Bianca I love you!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around her and hugging her tightly.

"Anytime," she mumbled into his shoulder, sounding very confused.

Chris pulled away, his face flushed and so excited that he couldn't keep her in suspense.

"I'll go back in time," he said, a massive grin on his face. "I'll go back to the past and I'll protect Wyatt from the demon that turns him."

"But you don't know which one, nor how they did it."

"So," said Chris. "If I succeed in doing it, none of this will ever have happened."

"And I would still be an assassin. I would never have met you," Bianca said.

"My mother always said that everything happens for a reason. If we are destined to meet, we will," explained Chris.

"And if Wyatt is destined to become evil?" Bianca asked.

"He isn't," Chris replied defensively. "He was destined to be good. To save the world."

After that Bianca seemed to warm up to the idea much more. "So how do we do it?" she asked. "Because you certainly can't turn up on your family's doorstep and say: 'I've come to save your son from turning evil. Oh, and by the way I'm also your second son from the future.'"

"Well don't the archives have lots of information on the Charmed Ones?" Chris said. "All I need to do is find out the best time to enter their lives and how to gain their trust without telling them too much about the future. I also need a spell from the Book of Shadows to send me back in time."

"Does the Book of Shadows have a spell like that?" Bianca asked.

"It should do," Chris replied, frowning in thought before letting out a short laugh and rubbing his hands over his face. "Goodness," he said in slight disbelief. "If this works…"

"It will work," Bianca said. "It's our only hope; the world's best and last chance."

Chris looked up at Bianca; her eyes were bright and shining with exhilaration, reflecting his own feeling happiness as despair lifted from his shoulders to join the smog above them. She was looking at him too, but in a way that made him shift with discomfort. The deep depths of her eyes silently beckoned him beneath the flood of wariness, drawing him forward before he could think to resist. Bianca didn't move away and taking comfort in this he inched closer to her. He could now feel her breath on his cheek and her eyes flickered shut. His fingers brushed her bare arm, sending shivers up his spine and she began to lean forward too. The moment their lips touched Chris' nervousness disappeared, and for a brief moment found himself lost in a place he had never been before. The place where thoughts nor surroundings no longer mattered, but the two beings that travelled there.

Chris pulled away first, a smile twitching at one corner of his mouth. Bianca screwed her nose up in slight embarrassment, before she started to laugh.

"I've never done that before," she said, lowering her eyes.

"Me neither," Chris replied.

A long silence followed until Chris could bear it no longer.

"Thank you," he said finally. "For helping me."

Bianca smiled. "I'm in debt remember?"

"Oh," Chris laughed self-consciously. "Yeah."

Bianca stood up and un-creased her trousers. "I better go," she said.

"Yes," Chris stood up quickly feeling foolish. "Yes you should."

"Yeah," she nodded, hooking a strand of chocolate hair behind her ear. "Well. See you next week."

Chris nodded too. "See you then," he said, and held his hand out awkwardly.

Bianca looked at it for a second before slowly reaching out to take it.

They shook hands before both dropped uselessly to their sides and they were back to staring again.

"Oh what the hell," Chris exclaimed, lunging forward and gathering her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

Bianca laughed and Chris felt her arms fasten around his chest before she stepped backwards and smiled at him.

"Goodbye," she said.

"Bye," Chris replied, giving her a feeble wave as she shimmered back to the underworld, to the land of tortured souls, and began to make a difference.


	16. Chapter 15 – There’ll be Some Changes Ma

**Author's Note: **Second last chapter!!! Yay! Not very exciting from here onwards though. Hope you enjoy it anyway. Keep the great reviews coming, I'll miss them when it's finished.

**Chapter 15 – There'll be Some Changes Made**

The joy and sense of achievement Chris had felt immediately after his brilliant idea quickly faded, and the more he thought about it, the worse he felt. By the time he met up with Bianca the next week he was beginning to dread his upcoming journey. He sat on the bench twiddling his fingers nervously, trying to come up with something intelligent to say when Bianca arrived. He had a sentence nicely rehearsed before she shimmered in and put him off entirely.

"Hi Chris," she said, sitting next to him.

"Err… hi," Chris replied, mentally kicking himself. "What did you find out?"

"Quite a bit actually," she replied. "There's a time travel spell in the Book of Shadows and if you use it you won't lose your powers when you go back so you can protect baby Wyatt."

"That's good," replied Chris.

"Yeah," agreed Bianca. "But it's only a one way door. Once you're back in the past, you're stuck there."

"That's fine," Chris said. "I could get the Charmed Ones to help me when I need to get back. They can write a spell."

"Are you sure?" Bianca asked.

"Hey," said Chris. "I lived with them once. The Power of Three can achieve almost anything."

Bianca nodded slowly. "You can't tell them who you are Chris," she said carefully. "Remember, you haven't been born yet and you'll want to make sure that you still will be."

Chris sighed. "It's going to be hard you know," he said. "Seeing them again. Younger. Without me."

Bianca put her hand on his knee. "I know," she replied. "Now, we're going to have to change your surname."

"I could just chop off the Halliwell and use Perry as my surname."

"Chris Perry?" Bianca queried to herself. "Yeah, that sounds good."

"I was also thinking that I could go in as the Charmed One's Whitelighter. Make Leo an Elder early," said Chris. "I mean a year or so early won't cause that much damage will it?"

Bianca shook her head. "I think that will work," she agreed. "I think that if you go back and help the Charmed Ones fight the Titans, then as well as winning the Elder's favour yourself, you could also make them favour Leo so they'll make him an Elder."

"But he'll still come down and see them. He'll get very suspicious," Chris said.

Bianca smiled. "Well then you could banish him somewhere for a while," she replied.

"Where?" Chris asked. "We don't want him killed."

"I'll work on it," Bianca said, and pulled out a bundle of papers from each of her boots and handed them to Chris. "Here," she said. "Background notes on the Titans and the Charmed Ones at that time."

"Thanks," Chris replied, peering at the spidery writing scribbled across the top page. "So," he continued, stuffing the papers into his trouser pocket. "How's life in the underworld?"

"Better," Bianca said. "Wyatt is happy to let me research for the museum at the moment. I barely see him anymore."

"Thank goodness," added Chris.

Bianca smiled. "How are you doing?"

"Same as always," Chris answered. "Bit boring really. But I was quite impressed with myself on Monday."

"Why?" Bianca asked suspiciously.

Chris puffed out his chest and raised his chin proudly. "I vanquished an upper level demon, he announced."

Bianca punched him playfully. "Oh Mr Macho now are we?" she teased.

"Well," began Chris, but was interrupted by Bianca placing a stern finger on his lips.

"Pride comes before a fall," she reminded him.

"Sorry," Chris replied. He was bursting to ask her something else, but found himself unable to.

"Spit it out," Bianca said, noticing this and nudging him.

Chris opened his mouth to speak but couldn't and let it hang there. Bianca looked at him expectantly. "About last week," he began.

"Mmm?" Bianca replied, a dimple showing in her cheek as she struggled not to smile.

Again Chris was lost for words. "Well…" he tried before sighing angrily. "Will you stop looking at me like that. I don't know why you like seeing me suffer."

"Chris," she said, taking his hand. "You are the only person in this world who I have ever truly cared about and who has ever treated me like a human being. I like you a lot, and in a few weeks we'll never see each other again with these memories or lives. So whatever you want to say about last week say it because I have no regrets if that's where it's going."

Chris stared at her and she blushed slightly. "Wow," he said, and she gave him a small smile. "Well I don't think I need to say anything anymore."

Bianca laughed. "Got you didn't I?" she joked.

Chris wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against him. She leant her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

"I'll miss you," she said softly.

"Hey," Chris frowned. "I'll come back. It's your job to keep safe until I do."

Bianca smiled. "You know time travel isn't as easy as it sounds," she said.

"I know," he replied. "But I'll make sure that everything is perfect before I go."

He looked down at the brunette who was staring mindlessly at the withered plants in the beds.

"You've been a better friend than anyone could ever ask for," he said.

Bianca smiled up at him. "Thank you," she said. "I just want you to be happy."

Chris laughed. "As long as I have a roof over my head, food in my stomach and you by my side, I'm happy," he said.

"And your brother back," Bianca added.

Chris nodded. "One day."

That evening Chris was bent over the papers Bianca had given to him, and was scribbling his own notes on a blank sheet. Apart from small pieces of information he still needed, it seemed that everything would fit together perfectly. He would travel back to the 9th May 2003, a couple of days before the Charmed Ones would have fought the Titans and also the 9th May was only a few weeks away from the current date, which he hoped would stop confusion.

Suddenly an arrow appeared out of nowhere and flew past him, inches from his chest. Chris slid off his chair and onto the floor in one, practised, swift movement, before quickly jumping to his feet and sending a Darklighter flying into the cupboard at the other end of the room. He had been hoping that there was only one Darklighter and so was dismayed to find another four facing him, crossbows raised and ready to fire.

Chris stepped out of the way of the first arrow and waved it into the back of the angry Darklighter who was half stuck inside the splintered cupboard door, vanquishing it. He tried to redirect the other three arrows back to their owners, but they were too quick and there were too many of them, and instead arrows imbedded themselves in everything else. Only one made it to vanquish another Darklighter.

Just then Chris felt a searing pain shoot up his leg and it buckled underneath him causing him to tumble to the ground. He propped himself up on one elbow and continued to throw the remaining Darklighters around the room, but as soon as they noticed that he was hit they lost interest and orbed out.

Chris breathed a sigh of relief and struggled to a sitting position so he could see the arrow protruding out of his lower leg more clearly. He groaned in frustration as he felt the poison trickling up his leg, leaving a burning trail in his veins in its wake. He placed two fingers close to the shaft of the arrow and flicked them. The arrow rocketed into the air and clattered to the floor a small way away from him. He hissed in pain and clapped a hand to the now open wound. He glanced at the arrow which glistened red in the torchlight, a small chunk of his flesh skewered on the barbed tip.

"Ow," he muttered to himself. He unsteadily got to his feet and limped over to his desk where he kept Bianca's potion, trying to ignore the spreading pain from the poison. He sat heavily on the floor when he reached his destination and stretched up to take the tiny bottle from a half open drawer. He downed the contents in a single gulp and waited hopefully for an effect. For a minute he thought it wasn't going to work, but then just like an old video recorder, the poison's fiery trail as extinguished. Slowly at first, but then faster and faster before it disappeared completely and all that was left was the throbbing of the hole in his leg. He leant back against the chair's wooden legs with a sigh. He was sick and tired of all the demons and Darklighters who kept attacking. He had strengthened the shield around P3, but still they kept penetrating it. He wondered if that even though he didn't have much more time to live there if he should find another place to stay, away from the creatures that would keep appearing whenever they felt like it, keeping him from eating and sleeping for over an hour at a time.

Over the next few weeks it was clear that the idea would never leave his thoughts. Chris had nowhere else to go and the only money he had wouldn't pay for a room, besides he was saving what little he had for when he went back in time.

As the deadline loomed closer Chris began to feel more confident about his journey. Together he and Bianca had sorted everything out, down to the last, small, almost insignificant detail. Everything had to go to plan or the entire thing would collapse in on itself. The two of them had grown much closer as their time together drew to a close, and at one of their last meetings together Chris took Bianca to the top of the now collapsing Golden Gate Bridge, to take one last look at the city he hoped he would never see in its current dying state again.

Bianca held his hand tightly as they sat side by side, gazing at the black devastation that spread across the land. "It's awful," she whispered.

Chris nodded. "I know."

Bianca squeezed his hand gently. "Just think," she said. "By the time tomorrow is over you won't ever have to see this again."

"Mmm," Chris sighed.

"Hey," Bianca nudged him. "What's wrong?"

"Well you'll still have to live here," he said.

Bianca snorted. "So?" she replied. "So do a lot of other people. At least I know that it'll all end soon."

"But what if Wyatt finds out?" argued Chris.

"Then I'll die," Bianca answered simply. "But by the time you come back it'll all be different anyway, so I wouldn't worry about it."

"That's not funny," Chris replied. "If I fail, history will repeat itself."

"Chris," Bianca groaned. "It's too late for any doubts. Can't we save this for tomorrow?"

Chris knew she was right. At first he was the one who was enthusiastic about the idea and Bianca hadn't been so keen. Now with D-day only being tomorrow their roles had completely reversed and the majority of Chris' conversation recently had been made up of sceptical comments about whether their plan would work or not.

"Okay," he said at length.

Bianca smiled and cuddled closer to him. "You know that even though you think so, you're not taking the easy way out," she said.

Chris poked her sharply.

"OW!" Bianca exclaimed. "What was that for?!"

"Save it for tomorrow," Chris grinned.

Bianca rolled her eyes. "Fine then," she pouted.

Chris kissed her on the nose. "Come on," he said. "There's a lot more we can talk about."

Absently Bianca began to trace small circles on his shoulder with her forefinger. "Who says we have to talk?" she asked softly.

Chris tightened his arms around her and pulled her closer until their foreheads met and he smiled. "Me," he replied.

Bianca frowned and placed one finger underneath his chin and jerked it up so their lips touched.

"I don't think so," she whispered.

"No?" asked Chris kissing her.

"No," Bianca replied, returning the gesture.

A few minutes later Bianca pulled away breathing heavily. She buried herself in Chris' embrace, trembling.

"God I love you," she whispered. "I love you so much."

Slightly shocked at the sudden revelation, Chris was stunned into silence. He groped around his mouth for something intelligent to say, but only one thing emerged. A thing that had been there for months, but he could never get himself to admit it aloud.

"I love you too," he replied at length, sighing with release of the burden.

Bianca laughed nervously. "That was scary wasn't it?" she admitted. "But I couldn't let you go without letting you know. I'd never forgive myself. God knows what will happen to us in the months to come, and I hate to admit it, but I'm really scared."

"Don't be," Chris replied. "I promise you a better life when I return, and none of this will ever matter."

Bianca smiled and sat up straight. "To tomorrow?" she asked, raising an imaginary champagne glass.

"To tomorrow," Chris replied, clinking his glass with hers. "And to a new 2025."


	17. Chapter 16 – The Blue Triquetra

**Author's Note: **At last the final chapter is here. Those of you who are very familiar with Chris-Crossed won't find this chapter too interesting I'm sorry to say, but I have added my own bits here and there to fill in any gaps. I hope you've enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it and reading all those fantastic reviews. Maybe I'll write some more one day, when I've got my exams out of the way.

**Chapter 16 – The Blue Triquetra**

The next day Chris was sitting on the bench in the Arboretum, his hands embedded deep into his pockets. He couldn't remember ever being as nervous as he was at that moment. His fingers played restlessly over the small object in his pocket, which had once belonged to his mother, and was just about to pull it out when Bianca shimmered in.

"Hey," she said, sitting down next to him. She had changed out of her horrible leather suit and was dressed in the clothes of an ordinary person. She had removed the kohl from her eyes, and to Chris it seemed as if she had wiped away all of the evil her previous attire symbolised.

"You look great," Chris said.

"Thank you," Bianca replied. "I didn't think it would be such a good idea to go to the museum dressed to kill." She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you ready to go?"

"Almost," Chris said slowly, trying to buy himself some time to select the right words he wanted to use. "About yesterday," he began, but was interrupted by Bianca groaning loudly.

"Chris," she complained. "We've been here before, I…" but Chris cut her off by raising a finger. He took her hand and continued.

"Yesterday made me realise that I needed to ask you something before it was too late. May I?"

Bianca had stiffened, sensing the question was big and nodded her head.

Chris fumbled about in his pocket for a second before he brought out a shiny silver ring with a glittering diamond on the top. He hesitated, his heart thumping wildly, before he carefully pushed the ring onto her finger. "Will you marry me?" he asked.

Bianca laughed at the abruptness of the proposal. "You're asking me now?" she asked, smiling.

"Mm hmm," Chris nodded.

"Here?"

"This is still our spot Bianca. No matter what he's done to it," he said. "Marry me."

Chris watched Bianca's face during her brief moment of thought. He was pleased to see that despite a little flushed and overwhelmed she was clearly very happy.

"On one condition," she said. "You come back to me. Safely."

Chris laughed. "Have I ever let you down before?" he asked.

Bianca smiled and kissed him.

Suddenly they were interrupted by a rustling in the dying trees, and a faint beeping. Bianca pulled away from Chris in fright.

"What's that?" she whispered.

Just then a probe flew over the wall and a bright yellow light emitted from its nose, covering Bianca.

"Chris," she cried.

Instantly Chris swung his arm at the probe and it sailed over their heads and crashed into a broken statue of an angel nearby and exploded into thousands of tiny burning fragments, which showered the dry ground with sparks.

"Are you okay?" Chris asked, placing a hand on her knee and shaking his overgrown hair from his eyes.

"Yeah," Bianca replied, slightly shaken. "Yeah, I don't think it had time to transmit."

Chris stood up and groaned loudly in frustration. It was too late for anything to go wrong now. "I can not believe he's sending probes after us now," he exclaimed angrily. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!"

"No," Bianca replied, getting to her feet. "No you're not. You're going to stick to the plan."

"But he knows," argued Chris.

"If he knew he wouldn't have sent the probe," Bianca replied. "You have to go back Chris. It's the only way to stop him. It's the only way to change all this."

She took his hand and kissed it reassuringly. Chris sighed and leant forward to rest his forehead against hers.

"Welcome to the Halliwell Memorial Museum," a tour guide smile with false cheeriness a couple of hours later. "A tribute to magic, and of course, the Charmed Ones."

Chris looked around the manor sadly. It had been so long since he had last been here, and it had lost its homely touch. Many of its rooms he could see from the hallway he now stood in with Bianca and a group of other tourists, had been roped off, and despite the furniture still being in place, everything seemed plastic and unlived in.

"Please remember that there is no digi-capturing, no holographing, and most certainly no magic allowed while inside the museum, that's a big one," the tour guide continued. "Don't worry about those probes folks. They're merely scanning for witches."

Chris' heart leapt into his mouth when he saw two probes appear from around the corner, yellow light pouring from their noses as they scanned the tourists. The tour guide began to lead the group into the next room, still talking.

"Now, as we pass through the foyer, note the family portraits hanging on the walls."

When the probes reached Bianca and himself, Chris waved his hand and the probes turned away, leaving the two of them alone and able to follow behind everyone else.

"Nicely done," Bianca congratulated his quietly.

"Around here," the tour guide said, stopping them next to the stairs. "You'll notice just a few of the many mythological creatures the legendary sisters transformed into in their demon fighting heyday."

Chris glanced at the various costumes which hung on mannequins, wondering where Wyatt had got them all from. Three super-hero like suits stood nearby, and what looked like a mermaid lay on the oak table at the other end of the room.

"Actually the Charmed Ones were responsible for well over a thousand demon vanquishes before they were finally vanquished themselves."

The tour guide waved everyone in front of her and picked up a remote control from one side.

"Now," she said. "The time is twenty five years ago. Imagine yourselves standing here on this floor when the Charmed Ones were reborn…" She pressed a button and a hologram appeared in the centre of the room. Chris noticed that his mother, father and aunts were all in it and a bright light was shining through the chandelier above them, bathing the room in the blue glow. He saw that his Aunt Paige was looking quite spooked.

'Okay, what was that?' she asked.

'I think that means you're supposed to be here," his father replied.

Suddenly a ghostly white, wild looking demon, crashed through the door, knocking all four of them backwards, which caused the crowed to gasp.

Laughing, the tour guide switched off the hologram. "Scares them every time," she commented. "Okay, let's head over to the kitchen where many of the sisters' classic potions were brewed. Some of which are available to purchase in the gift shop on the way out."

Chris rolled his eyes and they were lead into the kitchen, where most of it was roped off to keep any meddling people away. He shuddered inwardly and felt very cold as he remembered what had happened the last time he had been inside the kitchen. Looking at the spotlessly clean tops now, it was hard to imagine what had happened those seven years ago. But Chris didn't need to imagine it. It was as if the tour guide had begun to play another hologram, as for the first time in ages the Event replayed itself in his mind.

"Of course the attic was the preferred spot for potion making, principally because that's where they kept the famed Book of Shadows," the tour guide droned on. "Which is where we're headed next."

She began to lead everyone out of the room, but Chris and Bianca stayed behind, listening thankfully to her voice as it died away.

"A little background on the manor itself. It was actually…"

Chris breathed a sigh of relief when he could no longer hear her before freezing at the arrival of a demon shimmering in behind them.

"Hey you two, move along," he said gruffly.

"Wait for it," Bianca whispered as the guard demon advanced on them, and conjured her atheme.

"Are you deaf?" the demon continued. "I said…" but he was cut off as Bianca viciously shoved her atheme into his abdomen and vanquished him.

"Come on," she said, heading towards the basement door.

Chris followed, remembering that for the past year he had only seen the nice side of Bianca, and the fact remained that she was still an assassin.

They quickly ran down the wooden steps to the basement and Bianca looked around the dark room warily, her atheme still raised, anticipating any attack that could come their way, before deciding that it was safe and her atheme disappeared.

Chris sat down on a step.

"We should be safe here until the museum closes," Bianca said. "Then we'll go get the book." She turned around to look at Chris who was still deep in thought. "What's the matter?" she asked softly.

"Nothing," Chris replied. "It's just that sometimes I forget who you really are."

"Hey," Bianca said, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet. "You mean who I used to be Chris. Before I met you."

Chris gave her a small smile. "So what do we do now?" he asked.

"We say goodbye," Bianca said with a smile.

Much later in the evening Chris and Bianca were sitting side by side on the bottom wooden step in the basement. So far nobody had disturbed them and it was almost time for the museum to close.

"What are you thinking about?" Bianca asked him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Stuff," Chris replied.

"What kind of stuff?" pestered Bianca.

"Like destiny," said Chris.

"That deep huh?" she asked with a smile.

"Well if what my mother told me was true about destiny always getting its own way. If someone was supposed to die at a specific time, then they will. If something was supposed to happen at a certain time, then it will, no matter what anyone does to try and stop it. I was wondering if maybe this was supposed to happen, and we can't stop it."

"Your Aunt Phoebe had the power of premonition, where she could see into the future sometimes, in order to change it. We have been given an opportunity like her in order to change something," Bianca said. "Everything happens for a reason Chris. You told me that yourself. Only destiny likes to play tricks on us. Maybe this is just the greatest trick of all."

"Maybe," Chris replied, and looked at his watch. "Do you think it's safe to go now?"

Bianca leaned over to look at it and nodded. "Let's go," she said, standing up.

They silently went back up the basement stairs, and Bianca peered cautiously around the door at the top before stepping into the kitchen. Slowly they moved up into the attic, but became more confident after each corner when they saw nobody and the silence beckoned them.

"Remind me," said Chris as they neared the attic door. "What do I tell them?"

Bianca slowly opened the door to the attic and peered inside. "Don't tell them anything," she said. "Just stick to your cover story. The less they know about the future the better."

"But what if they find out who I really am?"

"They won't," Bianca reassured him. "Not as long as you can pass yourself off as their Whitelighter."

"And you're sure I won't lose my powers when I go back?" Chris asked, shutting the door.

"Not with this spell," Bianca said. "That's why we need it. Look, just remember, protect baby Wyatt and you protect the Charmed Ones. Keep them alive for our future."

"Great," replied Chris with a short laugh. "No pressure there."

"Chris," Bianca said, stepping closer to him. "You know you're the only one who can do this. You're the only one who can save us."

"If I make it back," Chris said.

"Baby, you have to make it back," Bianca said, reaching up to touch his cheek. "If you want to marry me." She leant forward and kissed him.

"You really know how to motivate a guy, you know that?" Chris grinned.

Bianca laughed and pulled him over to a hologram of the Book of Shadows. Chris ran his fingers through the holographic pages.

"You sure you can summon the real book?" she asked.

"Yeah," Chris replied.

"Away from him?"

"Yeah," repeated Chris. "But we won't have much time once it gets here. His demons will be all over us."

"I won't need much time," Bianca said. "Just long enough to send you back to them."

She conjured a piece of chalk and walked to a wall clear of ropes and furniture and began drawing on it.

"Hurry," said Chris, looking down at the hologram again. "Before he finds us."

Slowly a picture of a triquetra took its chalky shape on the wall, and when Bianca had finished, she threw the stick of chalk to one side and brushed her hands off. "It's time," she said.

"I don't want to go," Chris said abruptly, stepping forward. "I don't want to leave you."

Bianca looked down at her left hand and pulled her engagement ring off. "Here," she said, placing the ring in his hand and closing his fingers around it. "This will remind you of why we're doing this. What's waiting for you here."

Chris smiled and hugged her tightly.

"Just make sure you take care of the guards, okay?" he said at length. "Then get out of here. Because if he finds you, if he knows you betrayed him, he'll kill you."

"Don't worry," Bianca said. "I can take care of myself."

Together they walked back over to the hologram of the Book of Shadows and Chris pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket.

"I call upon the ancient power, to help us in this darkest hour. Let the book return to this place, claim refuge in its rightful space."

Instantly the Book of Shadows seemed to drop out of the air and landed on the stand.

"It worked," Chris said.

"The spell," Bianca hurried him. "Find the spell."

Quickly Chris flipped through the book and found the page her was looking for.

"Here these words, hear the rhyme, heed the hope within my mind," he repeated. "Send me back to where I'll find, what I wish in place and time."

There was a crackle of what sounded like electricity and the inside of the triquetra was filled with an electric blue light. Chris ran towards it, stopping just before the portal to look back at Bianca one last time, when a demon shimmered in behind her and grabbed her.

"Bianca!" Chris yelled.

Bianca thrust her elbow into the demon's stomach and threw him over her shoulder onto the floor in one swift movement.

"Go, GO!" She screamed at him before the demon kicked her to the floor.

Chris knew that she would probably be okay, but he couldn't help but worry about her anyway. He turned away one last time, his back to the world he knew, and with a deep breath, stepped into the portal, and the past, and the adventure that awaited him.

**The End**

Thank you very much for reading. 


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